Pink cloudbrush, razor moon, Venus
runs swiftly ahead, soon to fade
in the great bulb of a summer day:
aligned by simple mechanics, some say —
I say, aligned by the belly of a black dog
thrashing in dew grass beneath my scratch.
Aligned, I say, by the brief delay born
of joy and its red lolled tongue.
Image: Trevor McGowan on Unsplash
Sweet and Bitter Greens 