Witty dancing under the sun, in dead places,
White wild wind whooshed over our red faces
But we got fatigued due to unending rhythms,
Of joyful living, no frighteness of the near future,
Even on empty bellies, sand covering our dark feet.

By our confidence, we got unexpected mortals rising,
Flushed expressions—magnetted, like a fishing hook
The sicilan army would have our throats with one look
'A patriarch would save us' I thought; my heart beating.

https://poetree.ca/post/6363894d933299e83693b8aa

Jennifer oddey