Not that I think that I know better than this:
a new thought falls from wherever its nest was;
the morning’s free of season and from hour.
Whatever this is, it works at me for worse.
The earth doesn’t see anything in flowers.
Not that I think that I know better than this:
a new thought falls from wherever its nest was;
the morning’s free of season and from hour.
Whatever this is, it works at me for worse.
The earth doesn’t see anything in flowers.