slant
of down hill
where the mouse
is late
to the grass
the birds don't mind
spring has arrived
early
winter vanishing
at yesterday's
twilight
blue sky bends
over
Port Orchard cedars
to avoid the virus
I am housebound
my window now
a poetics
of desire
I wish to shout
across words
a fondage of new speak
hanging
from the edge
of thought
of down hill
where the mouse
is late
to the grass
the birds don't mind
spring has arrived
early
winter vanishing
at yesterday's
twilight
blue sky bends
over
Port Orchard cedars
to avoid the virus
I am housebound
my window now
a poetics
of desire
I wish to shout
across words
a fondage of new speak
hanging
from the edge
of thought