ii.
Storm came . . .
down from tangerine sky of birds
at kiss of dusk, hopeless to no end in its fall
that slumber settles its reprieve
in the droop of eyelids, ever defiant,
and renders to stillness pitter-patter chatter
of minds, petulant,
unto the point sheep-less:
gone, finally,—dreamscape frolic,
where day forbids fantasies of night's slumber.
©ECole789 1/15/17
YOU ARE READING
three breaths deep and hold
Költészetstill the day's ordinary mind-chatter to the calm of silence and take in these thoughts, running one way then another; catch them--if you can--for a third time on inhale: three breaths deep and hold; and when you, in slow deliberateness, exhale; let...
