exiles child

Poems

Fridays piling up
Like migrants at the border
The poet snoring

Bright sun, cool breeze
Birds on the wing.
Feet, you paying attention?

Stillness so deep
You can hear
A pen fall

Splat!
The universe
In a raindrop

Posted on May 3, 2019 by Mikels Skele

April hailstorm
My fragile garden
Laughs it off