Yes, another window photo. And, lo, another poem.
Burrow
She’s in a pocket;
Tucked in, safe hole,
Whatever rains,
It doesn’t reach her,
She hides her stupid head,
Pulls up her stupid knees,
Makes like a circle.
Hard times come round;
They knock, knock, knock,
They pull and push.
Her view is simple.
She waits them out,
The rips and stones,
Disguised as nothing.
RF 2016
2 comments:
That's my default position for the hard. Lately I've been finding myself there more frequently than I would like.
Thanks for reading Dana. Onward, onward. x
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