spring again

Here returns a sky of broken clay pots clamouring
for my attention amidst the memories of rain.
Our prayers for a crack in the flags above answer
me in realisations that these clouds are moving south
and soon you will see them too. A bird breaks my sight.

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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