Meanwhile, Young Men Get Drunk at the Feast

Acorns drifted off,
slept long, and one winter woke
Rip Van Winkle oaks.

Stiff, sore, poor wretches!
Bitter winds and burning stars
keep them from their dreams.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s