Monday, 17 January 2011

Seasons poem

In summer when the skies are white
we mock the timidness of night.

Autumn, when the trees disrobe:
a shadow in your lung's left lobe.

Winter's potatoes going green:
it's unclear what this may mean.

Spring: the leaves come back around.
The egg is buried underground.

1 comment:

keri said...

this is beautiful.