Wrinkled Pink Landscape

A Poem

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Stymying hill up but climbing down not so easy – I cross a thousand municipalities in seconds – still wondering who the top administrator in my town is supposed to be – and why we can’t have more rain than this – I don’t like it too hot –

The crumpled wrinkled pink landscape in the head setting various fires – and leaving them alone – I come here to breathe you – if the scents would…