Three, Twenty Seven, Eleven

3/27/11

the earth is scarred and charred
the birds go screaming, bleeding back again
looking for something to defend
willow almost billowing again
bowing submissively to the idea of a friend
changes take time
press rewind
gauzy blankets dropped over drooping heads
dreary, dreamy pockets of pillows
the clouds are grey - it's spring

~S.I.M.