for hours the sky
unlined
daybreak
in January
only crows crow
Smell Pox
I lost my sense of smell for just two days. When it came back, the first odor I noticed was soil.
just at the point
of running away
white-tailed deer
trail maps
the easy chair’s
mountain
snow
whiter
oak
hanging on
to a single wing
old spiderweb
on a path
swallowed by forest
horned moon
purple
stripes on trees
nothing’s private
as for me
the mossy side
of the trunk
gray
fox’s leftover
junco feathers
bubbles
frozen under the ice
or current resident
