The sun was stubborn as a mule,
around-bout evening I’d say go down already
but it’ would lite, tisk, tisk and burn to the bone
then around-about morning the sun feel real good
like a cold drink melting-stubble right off my chin.
Cracks.. rip nine, Skyscrapers rising, fire hydrants, and secret driveways, over policing poverty… somebody’s daughter, somebody’s river, somebody’s mule
some bone, some dish, some -late, some fall prey… round-about summer’s dying…~Krissy Mosley photo image by Pixabay.com
Reblogged this on The Salamander Chronicles – Don Beukes.