deepundergroundpoetry.com
Break of day
At break of day…
the swathes of rain
drifting Eastward 'cross the plain…
parted long enough to show…
a grazing herd of buffalo
stretched out to the far horizon
never thought that I'd lay eyes on
a million rounded curly backs
squashed like sardines in tiny
tin packs.
the swathes of rain
drifting Eastward 'cross the plain…
parted long enough to show…
a grazing herd of buffalo
stretched out to the far horizon
never thought that I'd lay eyes on
a million rounded curly backs
squashed like sardines in tiny
tin packs.
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