Blue Highways
balanced precariously moon
rests on antlers of a pine
cool light washes every grass
each red-blood paintbrush bud
outlines tumbled cones fractured
rocks with weightless silver leaf
mountain meadow
limned with early frost
despite summer constelleations
death is compressed with-
in one white fist of owl
its long shadow stretched to touch
the indistinct thrum of a distant
route where twin cones of light
desperately search for
structure
3 thoughts on "Blue Highways"
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A painting with words succinctly drawn! death is compressed with-in one white fist of owl Lovely line, Brigit!
This feels so lovely and familiar
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