313.
A futile journey,
Childhoods, birdsong deprived;
Timeless trees were felled.
314.
Underneath us, thoughts;
Mistle-thrushes pull up worms,
Authors fall asleep.
313.
A futile journey,
Childhoods, birdsong deprived;
Timeless trees were felled.
314.
Underneath us, thoughts;
Mistle-thrushes pull up worms,
Authors fall asleep.