By: G. Louis Heath The sky that Sunday spring evening Curdled burnt-orange and salmon pink Against a canopy of blue, a motley sky Over fugitive snow, so evanescent as to Defy my sense of what is. Snow takes Its leave,…
By: G. Louis Heath The sky that Sunday spring evening Curdled burnt-orange and salmon pink Against a canopy of blue, a motley sky Over fugitive snow, so evanescent as to Defy my sense of what is. Snow takes Its leave,…