Howe o Nicht

Moon on the slates,
skitters its flichterin licht

Efterneen

A file yet

till gloaming,
an the streets

Foreneen

Yalla sun ower the reefs,
maks glentin leams o windae gless,
pirlin shafts reflectin aff o hi-rise waas.

Small Wars

Once
it was war,
now only
skirmishes,

small wars,

enrage
the world.