light coming into clouds
above shadowed
ridge, towhee calling in
field in right
foreground, no sound of wave
in channel
some shift of line by means
other than effect, is
it that matter becomes zero,
imagine, follows from
grey white clouds above
shadowed ridge,
cormorant flapping across
toward point
This poem is excellent, thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks Angela, nice that you saw it. . .
ReplyDelete