What have you done, little grey wing Flown the dark Atlantic to Cordoba Heard the poetry of Lorca Stolen a song of some ruiseñor Returned with them swelling your breast? Again, to the moon’s full glow Accompanied by crickets, the songs Filter through the lemon tree. The mockingbird awakens me. THIS is what I MEAN!!!
What the old know the young will not believe. But the wiles of the old are not lost to the wise. As a farmer busy with work seeing the fox Does not call his dogs or take a gun The old turn a blind eye and allow much. It’s wise to see the good and ignore […]