From my porch
I watch thunderheads
battering high noon
into bruised twilight.
I see you climb
from under eaves,
awakened
by a pressure change.
As the storm inhales
you leap and spin,
leap and spin
your web — knowing
your time to build
is fleeting.
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Dear Poeter, Man's life is a
Dear Poeter, Man's life is a series of unconfirmed paths and journeys. Here memories and thoughts are all stored in the indirect world of the mind. Moments of wounds and the silences of smiles make the beginning of the leaf fall to the man. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations
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