Posted in California, Poetry, Prose

Barren Rock Faces

Warmed by the sun
the granite shimmers
like pyrite
in my golden summer,

The smallest cloud
casts shadows, coldly
upon my otherwise
warm-like day
setting my memory
back a bit
not wanting other
than good to come, of its

Sitting, along inclined planes
watching the clouds play
in the endless sky
Wondering how long, I
will be permitted to enjoy
this sunny feeling
called life….



American living in Denmark.

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