a black rope
hanging from the oak tree
swings back and forth
in the winter wind . . .
red slippers on the ground
Atlas Poetica, 25, 2016
A Room of My Own: Thoughts Pacing Gembun
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Another night of shifting, flipping the pillow, and counting sheep …
my thoughts pacing
in moonlit dark, one stray
outbarks the rest
*Added:*
ice cryst...
