(Poem #293 on new numbering scheme)
A certain type of air is more like motes of truth and doubt: it swirls in paths around each tree like hounds sent out to scout.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
(Poem #293 on new numbering scheme)
A certain type of air is more like motes of truth and doubt: it swirls in paths around each tree like hounds sent out to scout.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.