Sunday, December 03, 2017

Atlas Poetica, Number 30, November 2017


float above moss stars . . .
amber beacons
in forest shadows
call us to taste the light

the shimmer
of diamonds on snow
and water . . .
sometimes we take
small gifts for granted

mudlarks . . .
everything we buried
as children
surfaces at last
into the light of day

in her eyes
deep wells of pain . . .
and yet,
glimmers of light
at the bottom

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