CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?

Oct 6

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CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?

Still faintly yellow
Lies before me on the ground
This small Autumn leaf

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on October 6, 2015, in Wee Poems and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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