There, I would fall asleep
like on a feather bed
there would be fresh air
sweeping away the bitterness
and also the worries, they
would disappear in the mist
near the Matai river, Nelson, June 2019, Sylvie Ge
At the end of the path, underground thoughts, casting a wide net in order not to miss anything. The basket of ideas is empty, but there are still some strategic crumbs to hold on until the next election.
*posted in July 2019, reviewed in July 2020
Un blog experimental voue a la poesie du quotidien sous toutes ses formes/An experimental blog devoted to poetry in all its forms
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