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Click heremy home & pond from jet
two specs now one now ... clouds
summer's first breath
ruffled my silver hair
a wrinkle in the sheet
and the buzz of a mosquito
about to move
to live a seventh life
low buzz in the sky
i am sure it's a jet plane
jogging in dark
too dark to run
kill the killer
or let the orphans die
clouds--I know those faces
scaring me before they fade away
clouds--in ruins
I recognize voices and gestures
talking to trees in forest
talking to himself in crowd
Shamu on my GO board
I need your two eyes!
words words words
missed the station
Wlodzimierz Holsztynski ©
Trees whispering of the past, sharing secrets ~ I talk to the trees ~ will they answer?