Thursday, March 24, 2016

Red Lights, Vol. 12, Number 1, January 2016

the chatter
of elderly trees
in wind gusts
bony branches scrape
the lowering sky

a kettle
of migrating hawks
riding thermals
through the boiling sky
we drink it all in

sunset's soft blush
through black lace leaves
why did I reveal
so much more of myself
than I had intended

No comments:

Post a Comment