Stems' brown streaks:
a thicket sideways.
Thorns and beams,
pencil thin, of gold light.
Black shadows
dapple the mud.
Exhale, then sleep.
Deep beneath trees
a man in crumpled
blue anorak, boots askew,
naps. His lullaby:
canopy sighs and birdsong.
No wait: it's here
but not for long.
No comments:
Post a Comment