Near the northern edges over the land
seasons all romantic and noble
dulled over by cheap lazy talk
from the commoners about climate change
shadows do visit though
and they seem to be long and fang like
The northern ones that would pick the best tulips
from the wild forest edges
This little square of the baltic
sunbasking for a good few weeks
the earth so foreign to this heat
And here he is silence himself
Grin turning up through the valley
sunny ray scanning the low brush and attempts at a canopy
silence himself
the palm of his hand too big for mine
his presence so strong that we ourselves wring our hands
commoners seperate
The old grey buildings contrast with the overcrowded ones
in the pale optimistic burb of Kupchino
Silence couldn´t get a word in there
I can hear their alluring whispers from south atlantis.
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