August morn,
No august moon,
Small eyes peer with fear
Through sun-drenched leaves
And cellophane grass,
stiil green,
soon to be robbed of its Chi,
Turning to paper
In various shades of clay.
agd
August morn,
No august moon,
Small eyes peer with fear
Through sun-drenched leaves
And cellophane grass,
stiil green,
soon to be robbed of its Chi,
Turning to paper
In various shades of clay.
agd