Ephemerae, Volume 1A, April 2018

the thin edge
between night and day
wild poppies


travel hostel
we unpack a pair
of ladybirds


Passage

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

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