Mornward

‘tho an owl flew lower

to the cedar-moss roof,

the two by the wood shed

never asked why another

in the silence of whom,

unhurried and muffled

in the drag of a hem

on the floor-circled dust,

the fold of cuff over cuff,

’til the window ran blue

with the elk in the runnels

of the rain-made shallows

Published by ayaladn

among the 26

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