From the woven fabric of my yellow shirt
I discover I’m a messenger.
Carrying seed through the day’s reach
point to point
street to street
a small life clings – a burr on a wing
Cactus, poppy, weed?
Pluck it off, I’m unfit for Spring
Barren
Comments
2 responses to “Barren”
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You may feel this way and I’m sure you do but…not really. Even if all you consider is your writing, you are far from barren.
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yes, I do, but not really =)
Thank you, as always, Ms. Moon. xo
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