The Season Stirs

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The Season Stirs

Blistered shutters
Prised from wintry slumbers
Neon blinking
Slots yawning a reluctant reveille
The rise and fall of Salacia’s breast
Inviting fresh prints upon the sand
The Season Stirs
And transients flock to bathe, to watch
To preen
And so it begins
Again.

by Peter McDonagh

Author: ptmcdonagh8

Artist, Photographer, Socialist, Republican and Rebel. Protester against environmental destruction, corporate greed and social disintegration. Realistic reproduction is talent but true art is about opening peoples' eyes so that they can truly see.

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