Jul06

A mired knot of sparrows flittingly quarrelFrom looping gallows to the hangman immoralAnd swooping herons besieged into paintForm portraits from landscapes dried in restraint.In searching for chattering starlings aroundIt feels like the gobbling turkeys are proudAnd mustering storks are feebly knockingTheir knees in hankering after jet black stockings.But see the last light of falling day…