In The Yard Poem by Robert Rorabeck
In The Yard
Now you fill me up with
Airplanes
And goldfish:
The cats sits for awhile: the sun milks up
The dish;
And everything else just turns around:
The music gets up in the grass:
My mother dries her clothes-
In the yard, another rabbit: another rose.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
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4/25/2024 10:14:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
