This entry is part 34 of 91 in the series Toward Noon: 3verses


When it died, the porcupine
leaked its fluids onto the snow
like a junker car.

I turn it over
with a stick: no sign
of a wound.

Startled up from the forest floor,
sixteen doves go whistling
into the snow squall.

Series Navigation← OpeningWinter sky, age 5 →

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