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November

a sunbeam levels late onto
dead spruce pavéed with lichen,
oxidized jewellery blushing blue
upon the bones of the evergray

their needles shed, cleft and rusted,
soon to spark the long cold burn

the moon (now up): nothing but
a random stroke of a match
against a strike-anywhere sky




Fri vers av Marie C.
Läst 216 gånger och applåderad av 2 personer
Publicerad 2013-11-09 17:54



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Marie C.
Marie C.