for now
it is the world
* * *
a dusty shed,
holes in the clapboard...
breathe shallow while sweeping
* * *
quiet as a mouse—
made that way
by owl and marsh hawk
* * *
dots in the snow,
a broken line between:
the larder is empty
* * *
held to the ground,
rendered asunder—
another life awaits?
3 comments:
Nice, Mark. Have you read Berry's Whitefoot? I got it for my kids. I think you'll like it.
Hantavirus haiku: Now there's a specialized genre!
Chas,
I was hoping someone would notice that one...
Matt,
I'll look for the book. Thanks for the tip.
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