Neath a canvas starry

Neath a canvas starry / Benjamin Rozonoyer

Neath a canvas starry
Walks the wind prewintery,
Through the bending barley,
Past the barn that's splintery.

By the pub-panes violently
Sweeps its nose inquisitive;
He is sitting silently –
The sprites have visited.

Morning ocean's breezy head
Slips away it next to see;
The sprites have visited,
He expired in ecstasy.

Neath a canvas starry: Copyright 2021 by Benjamin Rozonoyer. All rights reserved.