Going about my daily bread
leaving a trail of crumbs
this sausage swoops down
stirring the ground leaving
the way home lost to me.
Another 'mindbender' from Is It... To sit and marinate. Enjoyed by those who ask themselves, 'Why? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If you can't find your way home, because some insects gobbled up your trail, you must live in jungle, so watch those ants they bite. Yes it is poetry. Bob