Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: January 7.18

Behind the brambly trees,

near distant,

the horizon burned,

color of gladiola

I have summer-seen,

but quick to cool,

lost to cinder grey

though I stretched my hand

to stop it —

ashen sky now

ashen snow —

the awning on the swing flaps

like trapped bird,

winter warming laps

at frozen ground,

then ice.

 

Connections