Reserve Poem by James McLain

Follows hill it speaks to,
for ever does sun rise, it never sets in you.
Many are the bluffs in whites,
red, tow brown, it's yellow, wings to shelter.
Feet in sand, eyes can cry, silky handsome,
clouds are puffed, crystal wings do drone.
Grey, brown, black offs shade, today is yours,
tomorrow came, swift swallows, Lillie's fond.
A hidden hollow read, draws circles, locks the
turtles, Peter, kathy's golden swan, clear pond.