2021
6.195
13.vii.25
lines from a stray breeze
a meadow crossing
here’s calligraphic distance
shadefolds of crag
such clouds as find us – the anvil and
the rag
up close
thistle and wild grass
little bridges of the marsh
underbranch
dungwhiff, the overripe bloom
shadow patched
a view through rust
to the sandy bottom
things land on me here
they take off again
years more than we count
lie wrecked all around
we grow over too
meadowsweet, angelica
honey scented hours
though we are walking away from
a sun here follows us over
hear the weekend marksmen
turning creatures into game
unfortunate machinery
keeping our wilds at bay
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.