Horoscope

This entry is part 2 of 19 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2015

Two eyes peered out at me from the thicket.
I was pruning branches. I was cutting back
abundance entangled in vines.
The vines were slender and outlined in barbs.
Tendrils wrapped a season’s growth
in their complicated embrace.
Which of these are not equally
implicated? The animal watched
then slunk away. I lowered my instrument,
examining the detritus left in its wake.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← SpringIf poetry is the shadow →

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