the sky is never black
over my town
but shades of blue
or gray
perfect velvet black
being held
for leafless branches
tangling the stars
or crows
however they fly
bird-shaped rents
in a winter
sky
ht.
sweet, quiet summer days basking in ridgeline sun... bitter cold afternoons with pruned hands in clay...mornings with vivaldi and tea... cranky diatribes on the irritation of the moment...welcome to my world. welcome to future 26.
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