Mother Russia
And in the east,
the birds called
louder to the Czar,
fiercely burdened after the long flight.
The whispers in the springtime,
brought warm incense sensations
sitting outside, frozen beneath the feet of winter,
destroying the wildlife, flowers fallen.
All was alive by day,
But shattered in the evening.
Awkward interactions, the
fishing man, the working blue collars
the lucky ones whose death was no longer myth.
poem by Sebastian JohnstonLindsay
Added by Poetry Lover
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