On a feathered drum

She sips her morning

coffee, wonders what people

are saying, thinking

 

while the dappled mare

watches him arrive,

disappear down the trail.

 

Staring at boulders

settled in a narrow stream

black and moss covered;

 

he imagines being gone

 

returns to crows chasing

sharp-shinned hawk. Grouse beating

love me on a feathered drum.

 

 

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10 thoughts on “On a feathered drum

    • Thanks Michele. Disappearing is one of my favourite themes (of thought in any case). These days it’s also beginning to transition into the notion of “blending”…

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