It Matters

The Comrade’s  sweepings of life are  spread like cumulus clouds  guiding ribbons of rivers. That moment’s rest at the house Of the hurting kind–mist. “Enough!”   the woman warbled, So now fledgling, Let’s rest in motion,  padding barefoot, claw foot  down nature’s asphalt unknown  what wafty thoughts  found waving from the shallows may conjure forthContinue reading “It Matters”