So small in the photograph:
one foot lifted, tip of a shoe
touching the back of a hot
and itchy calf, chin pointed
toward the window where the bees
hum their wayward psalms
and sparrows heed the instinct
to turn and wheel, beneath the sign
language of larger wings.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Spring
- Horoscope
- If poetry is the shadow
- Interstitial
- Runic
- (poem removed by author)
- Interruptions of the actual
- Small fires
- Politic
- [poem temporarily hidden by author]
- [poem temporarily hidden by author]
- Bell Jar
- Retablo
- Hello, hello
- Vectors
- (poem removed by author)
- The Momentary
- Lessons in complexity
- Agape: