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birthday poetry

letzter Mitternacht
die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
wie das Glätten fällt
ein Nebel fuhr unten
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
wie Adler auf hoher Höhe
wenn Freiheit von ihrer Gebirgshöhe
sie kennt eine preiswerte Freigabe
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell
vor er war viele und viel einem Jahr
in den mournful Zahlen
die Dichter sagen
ich bin der Wind, der wavers


 



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