The foxes are in their den somewhere,
the trees are gray with small red buds.
Along the road, cars whiz by
with the bodies of winding lives.
Another season is arriving
asking for the reception of a friend,
who will just be there,
offer tears for what has died,
hope and love for what is growing,
a little cake for the hungry,
because there is no better place to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment