from its dust my ancestors rose From its form my breast is mounded. I love this land
Scaled feet tap dance on the asphalt The rhythm lost in the folds of the city noise Your tail feather kisses burning cement Once Twice -thrice You intently peck Your black and white coat In this lake of neon colors... Continue Reading →
There is a brown patch of grass in the middle of a forest that was
Am born in the highlands Breezes cold ,evenings warm with candle light and darkened sights. Everyone has a tale, from the mountains my story can be heard.