Tuesday, May 07, 2013

Poem 36: Pretty Reeds

When pretty reeds flock teasingly,
You will change.
When mockingbirds sing pleasingly,

And midnight winds blow hot and strange,
The sky tilts
And strokes the parched and fevered range.

It soothes the secret heart, which melts.
It carefully undoes itself.

© Hannah Six, 2013


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