Bad poetry and Just Sitting - blog journey portraying the coarse and subtle levels of the phenomena called Mind-Body

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Summer Snow

This summer smells of snow
Through the nostrils
The fleet of clouds
Across the canvas
Moving as the wind blows.

A slap of cold breez
On one cheek
Humid warmth
On the other.

The night is falling dark
A Bat against the last daylight
A fox is hunting for Geese
Anticipation in the throat.
Key locking the door.

No comments:

Post a Comment