Driving by on a snowy morning,
I watch the horses in the fields and shiver,
Grateful for the comfort of my car.
And what of all the refugees,
Unprotected from heat or cold,
Lying in their tents and bombed-out shelters?
We walk and drive and sleep on the same earth,
Though miles apart:
How can we not ache for that connection?
1 comment:
Un paisaje nevado en el que la vida parece transcurrir con normalidad.
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