the folks
by windrag
the masters were wise. they waited for insight to write
their poems. i’m not so patient. i see
the moon, reflected in the river, and race to describe
the cicadas that tickle my eardrums
the masters were wise. they waited for insight to write
their poems. i’m not so patient. i see
the moon, reflected in the river, and race to describe
the cicadas that tickle my eardrums