
The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina
Writer in San Francisco, CA

Slid into heaven
Thanks to raven wings and bones
It is a dark room
Scattering of beads, thunder
I wake in the morn
poem written in Tanka form

The sun beats down
on the golden hills of summer
the air is crisp and waiting
for the cold brush of fall.
Thank you for reading! Please follow or subscribe to read more poems!
-Alina