across - Популярные cтихи, рассказы и фанфики

Across the sky, the clouds move,
Across the fields, the wind,
Across the fields the lost
Of my mother wanders

Among the more irritating minor ideas Of Mr
Homburg during his visits home To Concord, at the edge of things, was this:
To think away the grass, the trees, the clouds,
Not to transform them into other things,