|
moon shadows – a cigar-box guitar's wail fills the delta |
||
|
all the magic you attribute to me ... snowflakes |
||
|
alto sax – the blue spots on a butterfly |
||
|
first star through unfolding clouds her diamond stud |
||
|
deeper cuts in the cutting board the ways I've changed |
||
|
in a firefly's flicker a glimpse of something more |
||