Out Walking, Nights Poem by james watkin

Out Walking, Nights



No strange thing, is it
Nor such to be
Afeared of, accustomed to.
No mooned owl, ever
Stratches its head
At what, glide by, are seen through.

Sunday, April 23, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: walking,night
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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