Bird (I View)

a lark,

on one wing

I fly,


hunted trees

where unseen forests

grow in each branched shadow

in the manner

sad seas



each drop

that falls from eyes

and crashes floors

(seasoning face)

. . .and reseeding. . .


About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

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