Friday, 8. February 2008
Fog Signals
Some mornings,
not all,
as fog hovers over the ice floed river,
a vee of ducks suddenly rounds
that far bend, swings upriver,
and then as suddenly vanishes like a filament of blue smoke.
Love, memories of you veer in like so much like this: so suddenly, and so gaspingly sharp.
Feb 6th 2008, Arkansas River
My Poems
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