Slowly, along whispering lanes
Just blocks from the bees,
three by three, a shower of jacaranda.
The wind. A rustling.
Here, between the rush and tide
of leaves,
a symphony of petals.
The Usual The stink. The plink and clink, so rinky-dink, Our winkless cries went down the kitch’n sink. Oh, strum und drang. D’you k...