Prospect Published January 23, 2018 by suprusr 0 Among orange-tile rooftops and chimney pots the fen fog slips, gray as rats, while on spotted branch of the sycamore two black rooks hunch and darkly glare, watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by. Related posts: Black Pine Tree In An Orange Light Landowners Three Women Last Words suprusr Published in Poems
