And just as the fog burns off and lifts,
there is a white bird wading in the shallows
gathering its silhouette tightly to itself
as we cross over the bridge.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
And just as the fog burns off and lifts,
there is a white bird wading in the shallows
gathering its silhouette tightly to itself
as we cross over the bridge.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.