Twiglet #60

Deep

It’s the last
finger of winter scouring
the moon full and flat.

I swept tongue-cold
spiderwebs from the air
this morning. Wisps

of meadow fog
on the drift,
cat-whisker soft.

It’s a boundless deep.

 

 

Twiglet #60: a boundless deep

9 responses to “Twiglet #60”

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