2345
7.152
2.vi.26
calling
it winter
by
the light come late
a
certain angle at
in
the gold beyond of falls
a
micro blue moon sets
possum
takes on the roof
a
pondlap frogspeak
all
those ducks take off
wing
reticence
lemon
ready
slow
grass now
you
put on pace to get around
harder
and harder to work up a sweat
flicker
of shadow low on a box
it’s
winter to the touch
a
little leaflessness
sporting
mulberry
yet
the bud puts out
there’s
no other name for this
it’s winter – I’m calling it now
