The stuff that comes out a bird's mouth.

Poem 20160420b

one cricket singing
lonely in the sun-baked yard
only mate–cold moon

——

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Published by crow

I'm a programmer and writer. I live in Southern California. View all posts by crow

Poet Rummager April 20, 201610:52 pm

Poor cricket; pining for a mate he’ll never reach 😦

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