The hills this morning
belong to that one voice
cleaving the silence open.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Bitter Root
- Aubade
- [poem removed by author]
- Overhead, the thin high whistle of a tree sparrow—
- Robin
- What Use
- Spring Evening
- Ad infinitum
- Cold Press
- Viernes
- Unto every one that hath shall be given;
- Round Mat #2
- Undertones
- Nest
- Hagia Sophia
- A Softening
- Blues
- Anamnesis
- Felt
- To Love
- Amoroso:
- Flaming Heart
- (poem temporarily hidden by author)
- In the Eye
- Vertigo
- Endleaf
- Instructions on how to play the mouth-harp*
- from Ghost Blueprints