Murmurs
Revolving
pictures
murmurate and
separate.
A burst of
starlings.
Morning mists curl
back,
cursing dead
skies. Worn-out husks
yawn for pure water.
Begin
Bright buds
squeeze open,
sticky to
touch, velvetine
perfect small marvels.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, November 29, 2020
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