Winter Oysters
J
James McLain
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Stroking the cats
long hair
with his brush
walking across the rocks.
Thunder is loud sun light
when it flickers
he must wait, there again
against,
the sea climbing the wall.
Even as cold as it is
frozen wasteland
solid trees and bushes
denuded of leaves.
The tide finally deceived
and it revealed
masterful he
fetches too me
winters pink oysters.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş