Thatch & Crow

A canopy, and protection from the wind.

Too much to bear when ripe with fruit.

Reach for the sun when one can.

On the smallest tree the sweet plums grow.

We take our rest from the heat of summer.

The dogs take their leave of the party, and discuss.

The clothing clings in the breeze.

She is desperate.

The wicker sings duet with the insects.

Goodbye.