It's Still Life

The Overnight Rain

It lingers
on the bright morning.
A slight shade.
From twigs.
Branches.
From the nape of grass.
It fills my nose with wet.

The fox was
in the flower pots again.
Wounded pansies
strewn
like stars, and
a grasshopper watched
as I rearranged nature.

For dVerse Quadrille 44 words, sans title, including “wound”. Shared with @dversePoets and @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021