Black sheep messy hoof prints
obscured by a fat snow cloud
their grey trail disappears
below heavy German branches
nobody wanted to leave
once it got too dark
where nothing fit
That's what happened
after the old place
sleeping
nearly in the new
Each word is but one or two syllables which gives the poem a nice rhythm. Some kind of transition between old and mysterious new. Like those sheep disappearing under the branches.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much!
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