small poems & small plates
8, the month unravelsThere the howl of hopeful folksgangs through the stolen coveA million days of sunshinelets us say it will not strike"Believe if you can in the censusAll you who doubted Idaho"Still as wolves before breakfastHis love for her, his deep boots
8, the month unravels
ReplyDeleteThere the howl of hopeful folks
gangs through the stolen cove
A million days of sunshine
lets us say it will not strike
"Believe if you can in the census
All you who doubted Idaho"
Still as wolves before breakfast
His love for her, his deep boots