Wildflower Stew

The sun appears to rise

but it is we who are falling,

spinning into space,

out of control, out of our minds,

lost in birdsong and gently

expiring trees.

@Rebecca Swan
June 5, 2011

This entry was posted on Monday, June 6th, 2011 at 12:34 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.