Conscious of the Wind

The wind sings
In the trees
As I,
Alone,
Pass by
Gravestone.

Or, on the busy thoroughfare,
Oft, he catches me unaware
With piles of fallen leaves
And great boughs brought low.
And then I know
That all must go.

	OIKOS™- Art, Books… on A Man Who Calls Himself J…
	OIKOS™- Art, Books… on Surface
	K Morris Poet on Table Dancing
	K Morris Poet on Table Dancing
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K Morris – Poet