Morning mist cloaks the river,
the souls of the dead
I've heard it called.
And marsh birds
call muffled questions
above the lapping water.
Sound is a slow drum
that becomes the rain.
Sue Scalf
Sue, a good mood here, esp at the end, approaches classical Chinese. Some
tightening, changes, perhaps; but I do not feel like doing them today. A
friend sent me a critique of poets critiquing each other, and I'm thinking
on it.
Smiles and thanks.
Gary
GO TO http://www.mindfirerenew.com/ THE BEST NEW ZINE ON THE WEB.
Issue 1 ready to read. Poets for Peace.... ¡Poemas sí, balas no!
|