A little triolet for a Friday morning.
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Stratus
I can almost touch this cloud
It’s blandness flies low
The world of grey must be proud
I can almost touch this cloud
All around it is a misty crowd
Staying close in a row
I can almost touch this cloud
It’s blandness flies low
Here, invisible pollen is scratchy. Tissue strips around my nose are affected. I walk the dog in histamine’s shadow. By fields that are...
I will return to the Stockholm ship and do my bit to protect it (and I will recall that I emit 75 watts of body heat). I will keep in...
Chuckling at your double refraction of light, I admire your rhombohedral habit. Your clothes. Your scarlet red spanks. Like the inner...
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