Pheasant Poem by burny peter
Pheasant
God, make me that sweet, special thing-
hidden in that snow clad mountains
which kiss the skies and are crowned
by the diamond glitter of sun, -
the secret ways to reach it
are revealed to a solitary bird
during unique days of nature-
when that lone king of the whole universe desires so,
oh! thee
Monday, September 14, 2009
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4/24/2024 11:28:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
