Three curved claws catch the wind,deciduous branches droopingover a dented car. The wind ruffles their leaves, buffetsthe branch.I want to be those leavesand feel the wind stroke mein many powerful ways.Careful. My grandmother’s soulis watching.
Author: Margaret Coombs
Poetry, curiosity, place.
That Crow
He’s like a high jumper who takes off from an earthbound standing pose to land at the top of our feeder where the frozen suet sits. His vertical ascent and how it opposed gravity surprised me, finding, as I did, a levitating magisterial ministerin my back yard, whose greed forced him to a platform built…
3.23.23
adjusting my vision to the night sky– stars
The Ancient Diarist’s Contemplation
turning over a life like a leaf allows more careful scrutiny of the traits of veins and margins which have now revealed errors of classification that occurred at the time of collection a broad category thought lacking now contains impressive specimens we–that is all the identities who travelled in succession through time each one answering…
3.21.23
windy parking lotbeside the snow pileswapping our death stories