Thursday, May 26, 2016

Robert Verdon, #154, O city of mountains!

Signposts point everywhere
roads bend like saucers
heads nod but not in sleep
cream eyes gaze into gauze
the might on the hill
shy as a native raspberry
hides from our trembling tongues
wind slams the window-frame
breaking our fingers
here we are safe
in your lustrous valleys
from strikes and rebellions
from speeches and ruin
no one can spirit us
off like a baby
we lie in your golden arms
O city of mountains!

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