W’thin Outdoor Café Cold
The cold wind lifts these leaves.
Tag: Poetry
On The First Day Of October
Alit along the current air did fall, in feath’ry glide, a-whilst my coffee waits, a crow.
The Matthew Spreads Its Wings
In screeching seagull song sounds out senescent afternoon.
On The 16th Of September
The road runs riv’ring currents, coursing crashless swirls of traffic.
Sunrise By The Banks Of A River
In age-long decades past rises the gilt Zimbabwe sun, the gutt’ral summons resonating – roaring – deep.
william altoft 