Friday, November 6, 2009

Forks

I found this poem scrawled on a random tiny piece of paper in my desk. It must be at least a few years old.

Forks

Winter trees lean
like freshly cleaned
forks drying upright
between ground and sky.
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1 comment:

  1. AnonymousNovember 6, 2009 at 1:49 PM

    I think this is my favorite one yet. It's so visual! Lovely.

    ReplyDelete