Sunday’s Poem there’s a poem blown in from the westsnagged on the clothesline, nestled in the fleeceI saw it, on its back, legs wide, surrendered I left it thereit looked so comfortableso happyso contained
EDITOR | WRITER | TEACHER
EDITOR | WRITER | TEACHER
Sunday’s Poem there’s a poem blown in from the westsnagged on the clothesline, nestled in the fleeceI saw it, on its back, legs wide, surrendered I left it thereit looked so comfortableso happyso contained
VANESSA SHIELDS 