In the seam between January
and the tentative unfolding
of the leap year month, textures
overlap, blur into each other:
the milk-blue of dawn with
the opal light that lives
somewhere around seven o’clock;
the outline of a feather
shed by a body that’s flown
in the direction of the sun.
White and grey speckles
on a field of tawny brown:
costume discarded by whatever
wanted to scale the branches.
[LAG-signature date=”01 29 2012″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2012/01/159122322/”]