I am that dithering insect,
trapped in the sash overlap;
running out of energy,
stopping,
then rising, briefly,
before another abeyance:
With no explanation
of the true properties of glass.
10,000 POEMS – Posted freshly most days
I am that dithering insect,
trapped in the sash overlap;
running out of energy,
stopping,
then rising, briefly,
before another abeyance:
With no explanation
of the true properties of glass.