blues

nighthawksEdwardHopper

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper, 1942
~
spring sprang left
summer upped in huff
autumn lingers languorously
attuned to me, alarmingly
~
triestesse
like storm in teacup
pokes swiss cheese holes
munching effervescence, inexplicably
~
Empathetically
observing emanating steam
from my uber tall mug, I dearly
wish to Houdini with it
~

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