Cicadas’ chirping is insanely loud,
the sticky air – thick and full of fog
and I can barely inhale this morning.
Tag: landscape poetry
-
Summer Day
Dried tears of rain
streaking the window.
Tired late train
slogging through the dusty landscape.
Long summer day
dragging into the past,
unheeded. -
Urban tree
Calligraphy of naked branches
against the urban avalanches
is crisp and clear, like the voices
of morning birds. There are no choices.
Breathe in the cold that stops your breath,
that fills your lungs – your shibboleth
and drown, happy, in the verse
of crystal clear universe.
