January noon

This entry is part 1 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses


In the owl’s flight
as in the conifers it left:
that silence.

It’s enormous,
the frozen carcass of a cow
eaten by chickadees.

O trees like forks,
the sky too is a dish
best served cold.

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  1. Verse scraped as clean as a January sky. I like this. (And thanks for the mini-vacation between sets of papers!)


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