January noon
In the owl’s flight as in the conifers it left: that silence.
It’s enormous, the frozen carcass of a cow eaten by chickadees.
O trees like forks, the sky too is a dish best served cold.
Dave Bonta
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 4.0
In the owl’s flight as in the conifers it left: that silence.
It’s enormous, the frozen carcass of a cow eaten by chickadees.
O trees like forks, the sky too is a dish best served cold.