The sun slips over
the gray pelt of a vole zipping
from one hole to another
and catches on a distant gleam
of frost-heaved flotsam,
luring me to go look.
A beer bottle at the base of a tree
rests in a cradle of leaves,
bluer than the sky.
The sun slips over
the gray pelt of a vole zipping
from one hole to another
and catches on a distant gleam
of frost-heaved flotsam,
luring me to go look.
A beer bottle at the base of a tree
rests in a cradle of leaves,
bluer than the sky.