Early Morning
Sorry, I’m still sleeping,dreamingof foothills like focaccia,how we fall into their valleys,intimidated by immensity.Creamsicle sky melts
Sorry, I’m still sleeping,dreamingof foothills like focaccia,how we fall into their valleys,intimidated by immensity.Creamsicle sky melts
I think of her every Sunday,whispering prayers in Italian.She could silence ambulance sirenswith struffoli on Christmas.She