In the Eye

Rumors descend

That cloud
like dirty milk

or mist on glass

Under the stairs
fold in

Be still

The quiet
in our ears

grown much

too loud
Wasps & hornets

lie down

on the porch
Every tendril



In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← (poem temporarily hidden by author)Fledgling →

1 Comment

  1. Wonderful. Maybe more so with Dave’s Tweet still ringing in my ears from a few hours ago.


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