Under The Weathers Again Poem by James McLain
Under The Weathers Again
My plate is always out side, full of bread.
I should stop feeding grain to those pigeons.
I must have gallons of the stuff, what is it's
use in the city?
Why take the bread away, they just keep
picking at there own guano's any way.
The dry cleaners dont eat pigeons either.
So the threat of the other white rain, is lost
in the soup, of the telly.Weather man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 2:58:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
