Each day’s a letter
from the unknown.
Yesterday’s missive
came on a plate
of beaten silver.
Today, the hollows
brimming with shadow
are legible. The only
comfort, a fox
squirrel crossing the yard,
its tail a mellow flame
floating in its wake.
—Luisa A. Igloria
12.22.2010
In response to today’s Morning Porch entry.