Saša Važić PDF Print E-mail

 

distant lights . . .
this empty nest sounding
winter

 

riding into
the tomato world . . .
a wide sky

 

a long way . . .
silence pierces shadows
left behind

 

gray clouds . . .
silently, a shadow enters
the boxwood shrub

 

dusty road . . .
your call, bluebird, vanishes
with me