16 February 2008


515
Unsure of this morning
And light turning with a tint drop
In the pool of darker clearness:
An aftertaste of night--
Not to come, but was.
Is this time, backward into day
Folding memory?
Else unraveling
Presents ribbon unrein,
Or the now bird-throated trees' discurling song.

2 comments:

antonia said...

darker clearness, discurling. great words & photo

mark said...

oh, thanks a.