This entry is part 31 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses


Clouds pull their shadows
across the snow-filled valley
as if dragging for a drowned swimmer.

I watch from the ridge,
mesmerized by the alternation
of gloom and glare.

The No Hunting sign rattles
on the electric pole
above the deep claw-marks of bears.

Series Navigation← Burning the tissuesHow to tell the woodpeckers →

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