Friday, June 12, 2020

Ribbons, Volume 16, Number 1, Winter 2020


how soft,
my grandfather's cheek
he shows me
the little swans inside
every columbine

I sift seeds
between my fingers
scattering them
like prayers offered
to the sun and rain

set the dark alight
I leave a trail
of petals for you
to spend come morning

to my garden oasis
every blossom
was once a sorrow buried
deep inside the earth

No comments:

Post a comment