Thursday, June 07, 2018

Ephemerae, Volume 1A, April 2018

the thin edge
between night and day
wild poppies

travel hostel
we unpack a pair
of ladybirds


I kneel
upon frost-rimed grass,
a song
nestled in the church
of my cupped hands

we are kin
to birds of passage
in far-flung places,
never quite at home

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