by Jenifer Cartland
empty lanterns, with leaf-littered, winter-worn skin, dangle in the dark breeze, biding your time, doubting
Jenifer
you sought to fill me as if there was space I did not want empty; the sky holds nothing
wind obscures all it runs through does not know its own name or mine; I give it my leaf
dried wheat bending, kneeling in the soft breeze open a path to deep underneath
crisp seed pod warmed in afternoon sun hollow now seeds scattered but one, bursting toward sky
There is a deer grazing in our woods behind the bunkhouse,
Poems from in between 