Rain For The Wicked

I don’t ask much of the universeDon’t pour libations,nor face the eastern sun,or the western wind-in salutation . I don’t ask much of the universe,don’t stay a while to listen to the trees sing,or the rain clean.The leaves have turned without me seeing,stomped on caterpillars that hoped to be butterflies. I didn’t ask much fromContinue reading “Rain For The Wicked”