Parading

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

With small cuts Cro-Magnon man recorded the

On the roads, blue thistles, barely

Each midnight (thrice daily) I scan

do you need

And in close darkness the aroma grows so sweet,

I saw my reflection on the water,

The woman saw me and smiled. “What you are I cannot say,

rock-cedar and sand plants

We want the spring to come and the