Cranes
I could hope, on the most cloudless
of sunsets…
Poetry by Devon Brock
Precarious, this light that hangs from a fissure,ties itself to a wet rail with a tendril and pulls,as if the nether side of a storm breaks,upturned and pillowed in a…
Approach the window.Let one skittish robin triggera flock. Starlings, juncoes, jays,a few gaunt sparrows will allupon a shadow split, as ifamong them a hawk had slipped. It is morning again.…
Published in “Poetic Medicine in the Time of Pandemic” ©2020 by Lotus Leaf LLC.
I’ve been nowhere for years,save the backyard. Once,high at the gutters with wet leaves,whirlies and grit, I saw Khartoumand Petra. And once, from the maple,cutting a rogue limb, I saw…
It is 4 a.m.,and a black dog breakscrust on old snow – stumbles.And a full moon loomsto reveal just easta crackling of limbs felledby gathered frosts and westa barn owl…