August Winter Night

Tell me not the earth cannot breathe.
I heard it sigh when the warm front hit.
The crickets sang to the amber breeze --
(Too foolish to know their time was short).
                                   In the shuffle -- of untroubled hooves,
                                   The whuffle -- of velvet whiskers, I heard it.


The ex-




                                        ation of the land.



Saying, “Come. Come to me.
Breathe in my sighs. My smells. My life.
And be.”


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. Keep expressing your heart.  

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