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
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
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