The wind is whistling
across the yellow broom
at the base of these
Central Otago hills.
The song is a deep song,
stirring the bones
of the familiar,
holding our breath so still.
WINDSONG
Published inTwitter Poems
The wind is whistling
across the yellow broom
at the base of these
Central Otago hills.
The song is a deep song,
stirring the bones
of the familiar,
holding our breath so still.