Subnivean

This entry is part 11 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses

Like varicose veins
in the thinning snow, the dark
tunnels of the voles.

My garbage is nothing
but coffee grounds, each morning
wrapped in its filter-shroud.

I miss summer:
those small millipedes that glide
across the bathroom floor.

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3 Comments


    1. Thanks. Yes, I keep meaning to put them into a series. I just can’t seem to come up with a title for it.

      Reply

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