ella Watson

from limb by limb
 
dear whittler,

daisy’s trimmed stems in water.  a gentle eye looking on.  the humid hung all day, the gray soaked all the way through.  i am folded in the first pew.  catherine behind me whispering a word or two.  careful daisy to mark the wear on each bone; a pencil is safe. my hands palm down.  she always plays the chickadee, old black cap sweet song— rain tomorrow,

dk

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Found at word for / word #9 winter issue