the sieve and the sand
Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother's poetry blog.
Menu
Skip to content
About Us
Authors
Archives
spring training
smell the glove
poetry
Dewy grass, sunrise,
the swirling echoes plodding-
My brothers’ feet.
Widgets
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here:
Cookie Policy
