you tear the still-warm sheets from the bed
last of November's mild days to line-dry
beyond the pond, prisms glimmer
two singular droplets
on two twig-tips
shimmer into
stars
°
last of November's mild days to line-dry
beyond the pond, prisms glimmer
two singular droplets
on two twig-tips
shimmer into
stars
°
©2013 Ravenna Taylor
Much intrigued by the title, "Tacenda", and its meaning. Your poem and image touch upon a presence that was but is now invisible, leaving only signs and memories of it former presence. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteVery nice...
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