Fiction, Fabulous Fabrication, or Fact?
You be the judge--please ask permission before copying, citing, or otherwise using any part of this blog--
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Lobo Was Here
If I knew what to say, I would say it
if I only knew what to hear, what is warning.
The bells all maroon, the buttercups and breezes.
Water runs there, over the meadow. Fall air is dry.
The leaves are crackling. I am the mystery, the Eiffel Tower
of the woods and mountains, plains and tundra, deserts.