Sunday, December 03, 2017

Skylark, Vol. 5, Number 2, Winter 2017

swathes my doorway . . .
its sweetness
calls to something hungry
that used to live inside

So Much More Than

we walk
under laden boughs
into silence . . .
a place of worship,
this architrave of snow

we make camp
in a dark sky preserve . . .
no stellarium
could rival
this magnitude of light

we become
so much more than
our wounds
lovely are the bruises
of crushed magnolias


the quiet
susurrus of stones
with each wave . . .
a refugee hushes
her frightened baby

of deer splashing
in puddles . . .
the bullied child
never that carefree

a cowbird
lays eggs in the nest
of her host . . .
too many people
feel they don't belong

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