Through the branch electric wire Connect atop my only spire. Above the trees that shed their leaves And fall unto my rusty eaves. Create a brief and green scene Until the Autumn’s come and been. After death, the dawning crown Has all but turned the awnings brown! Balancing without much thought Toward a swathe ofContinue reading “A Poem – Abode (An Old Home)”
P.S.Clinen 