The River Poem by Beata Zalot
The River
In March's sun
the river
warms her bones
fishes tickle her with life
wind entices her
with human smell
in sleep trees mumble
about their affairs
people say
that the river flows
whilst over her womb
the world transforms
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
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4/25/2024 1:12:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
