![]() EndsummerA Poem by Molly Cara
The scene wavers through the smoke.
Hot coals in the clouds light them orange till they glow. Till we blow them grey, like smoke from a runaway flame. Like a thread of spider web. Like a strand of mother’s hair. Like air. © 2013 Molly Cara |
Stats
90 Views
Added on August 7, 2013 Last Updated on August 7, 2013 |