On a day two days after Palm Sunday,
there were no births, and,
therefore,
no deaths.
Instead I sat at my cold aluminum desk
and threw out words like pennies,
watched through grudged windows
the skeletons of trees endure.
On a day two days after Palm Sunday,
there were no births, and,
therefore,
no deaths.
Instead I sat at my cold aluminum desk
and threw out words like pennies,
watched through grudged windows
the skeletons of trees endure.
