swish, swish, thunk.
swish, shwish, thunk.
swish, shwish, thunk.
The rhythm of the bicycle offered a cadence in the chilly damp predawn hours.
He was of sturdy constitution.
He rode with a purpose.
swish, swish, thunk. . .
A paper perfectly hoisted into a glorious sunrise over Cedar Tree.
swish, swish, thunk.
Blinding Sunlight
Sad, sad newspaper
Judgmental
Landing on your leafless, heartless doorstep.
Swish, swish, thunk.
Listen. . .swish, swish, thunk. . .
Listen as you raise your fist in defiance.
What would you read?
If afforded?
Yet still hear
Hear you! Mighty roar. . .
On your bike. . .
Swish, shwish, thunk. . .
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment