Wednesday, April 13, 2016

What's Left

The surrounding incoming
Continues, cold and detailed
As ever, the grey storm front

As insistent as anything
Healthy youth experienced,
Albeit more nebulous.

Roofers staple gun a roof,
A barky dog barks and barks.
Jets rumble and small birds chirp.

The stench of windblown brush fires
Stinks. It's delusion to think
Anything diminishes.

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