The black road spilled like ink
In the snow, the wet in
The cold to let you know
This light is not so cold,
And it smells clean, like washed
Clothes on a line in wind,
That damp snap that makes you
Glad you did all that work
To hang this up here, this
Scene, these white sheets, the wind.
Thursday, January 28, 2021
The Deeps of Space Their Blue
