The Cacographer

Pastoral for venice

I set out my pale hand
waiting for rain
to drift or bombard
this canvas umbrella

It was white,
years ago,
during the first times
when the pines
were raw
and cracked in the heat

Gray and solitary
the barista gone
it flutters
like a sail
over miles of
broken cobble

posted by OrangeDrink @ 4:33:00 AM