By: G. Louis Heath A phalanx of muscular, gray cloud gazes Dimly on my day. I hear thunderbirds Behind the thunderheads. Or maybe they Are chariots roaring out of Rome, drawn By sky horses. Yes, more like that. I think…
By: G. Louis Heath A phalanx of muscular, gray cloud gazes Dimly on my day. I hear thunderbirds Behind the thunderheads. Or maybe they Are chariots roaring out of Rome, drawn By sky horses. Yes, more like that. I think…