A hails storm leaves Dents in the trees.
And still they sleep bent and
Pushed to the ground Branches brush.
The gra**, a sound Like her throaty alto.
Braches beat windows
a plea for escape
His nasal ba**.
I know this tune by heart.
Have never known them apart.
from exhaustion
A drizzle trialing a sudden storm
A dirge for callused hands at rest.
may they never dream of scrubbing.