Happenings
Icicles are hanging from my drying
jeans dripping the color of denim
the dog the poor restless dog is
barking puffs of wintercold air I
can see them drifting then dying
anyone can.
“Be quiet” I’m scolding
that orange-bellied moon has
nothing better to do than gawk
giggle at me through the cracks.
The sky? well it’s holding its
breath somewhere between baby
blue and lights out.
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