Flowing Wit Poem by Tajma Hall

Flowing Wit



late evening pockets this way
cool shells in the bright echoes
ripples the ends of a shout
lasting through the night
sky in swirl as a child
upon a sea is the wind
as much bright as the noise
from a heavy autumn day
shaking its tailcoat inviting
us into a warm house~

Friday, November 30, 2007
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn,house
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