1691
5.259
16.ix.24
they are turning
it’s an education
slowly but still
the colour comes
as day declines
things burnt
a bone misplaced
in deer skitter traipse
leafslid, trackless
shelves shale dull
with thus far time
it’s where afternoon
is decomposing
twig fingers
bare to reach
see the meadow upslope
know the house must be beyond
wonder under rock
is someone safe?
in the death of a tree
these beginnings
here to leave little
take less
just these woods
of a high up song
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