Then, with the evening, comes the lull.
The cars break free.
The trains lumber on.
Travellers shake their heads and sigh.
With crunching steps, the skaters tramp home.
Their fingers numb, their cheeks aglow.
The lull's
aika
bits
familiar
wee
minute
little
glued
about
who
you
some
good
a
run
ORGAN PLAYS
ORGAN PLAYS
