A place to sound off about movies, books, and politics, and the culture at large, and let's face it, whatever I feel like.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Spontaneous Sunday Poetry
I listened to a story about a city in Brazil -
water dry in months for destruction of the rainforest.
A butterfly floated past looking for the memory of a field,
A bee hovered at my car window, which will never be a flower.