swirling wind from aerosol
pasting colors on window
collecting sunshine forever
pale would be for after roots
shrinking leaves deprive oats
grain; not attractive to goats
i push stick to open up wide
felt gush of wind not surprise
smell of drying dew and stalks
heard kids giggling way far
maybe they are riding a car
i better straighten up with smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem