Simple Gifts

The bluebottle fly came
To graze on my arm

As I was reading Lorca
She chose a living home

For a moment
I served as her shore

Of Lorca
Inside

There was a place
So ask if nature needs art

Recall the first time
A coin dropped in your palm

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto