On a wild and dreary hill,
the sun still on the horizon,
a running flock of birds
swirled and gathered, home to roost.
Their bodies stark against the dusk of day,
curling, as one upward,
and in a flash drifted away
as shadows lost.
And the last of the sun,
shone through the coming rain
silently, to disappear ghost-like,
into another day, on another world,
million and millions of miles away.
begs the question, how many other words does our sun shine on, is there someone else on another planet writing verse aswell, surely we are not the only ones? nice poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem, very inspired write.