The Gift of Spring
2023-03-07T11:21:17-05:00At first, The grief was as thick as the Nimbostratus clouds That
At first, The grief was as thick as the Nimbostratus clouds That
It’s so hot; my igloo’s melting I’m chopping trees, my neighbour's smelting
What beauty lies in rain of darkened day? If sorrow blooms in
‘Tis a gloomius day with racshack clouds The squawkety squacks are chattering
Always (only) a campfire guitarist, My hands sift stiff through the strings.
For WOMAN, LIFE, LIBERTY For dancing in the alleys and street For