fly far
fiction
Edward w Pritchard
Fly far, fly low to the ground.
Soar over mountains,
feel cold wind in cedars,
hear splashing rain soaked butterfly,
quenched by burning
spattered with raindrops
land in wildfires,
rest on blazing golden boughs.
Fly far, land safely
rest on golden boughs.
Monday, December 23, 2013
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