Arts + Scene » Poetry

Come and Play



Hope arose from marsh paths
egret-eyed and scraggly —
stilt runs.
Whistle stops, parcel drops,
destination bugged.

Prime that ordinary ooze, American
coot. Oh, see? Can you say?
I try evolution, airy terns in
revolving dour mood indigo
waiting until
some marbled God-wit kites
my cin-
namon(g) teal skies.

What a pickleweed be in
were it not for the
promise of the
pearly everlasting!


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