Wednesday 24 November 2021

A Poem a Day (481): Dew

 
Dew
 
We devour the line
and in killing time
come to depend
on one another.

Reason lit confounds,
gives vision to sound,
rustles up new words to
describe the everyday.

This is the essence of
play, of removal,
of being in the moment
already passed.

We wait for morning,
count the dew
settling and reflecting
our own skin.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, November 24, 2021


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