Clouds softly flow
across skies of cerulean
a voice in the distance calling,
and I swear I can make out
words, then I realize
it’s a crow talking.
Thank you for reading!
-Alina
Alina Happy Hansen
Writer in San Francisco, CA
- SF
In May, the fog slips
Into the city nestling
Against glass and steel
I am perched at the bar and
Swim in music and murmurs