It's spring again it's spring again my love
The snow still spells its simple epitaph
And birds are fixing silences above
As distances grow instantly alive
And unfamiliar with an invisible flame
And open to the wind's unflinching knife
So that in thrall to longer afternoons
A countryside becomes a pastoral
Ignited by the purity of moons
To celebrate in bleeding Sang Real
pastoral
© Copyright: Ла Мага, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117032107803
Свидетельство о публикации №117032107803
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