daveboyer

light snow on thin branches I catch and release the fly

the stone in my gut between waxing and waning

the yellow moon hides in the pan the bacon hisses

train whistle billows of steam from the humidifier

all the flavors of the orange sunset

in a drafty kitchen I peel an egg bereft of haiku

flags in a distant courtyard squirrel chirps from a leafless perch

a faint taste of chocolate in the concept of fallen leaves

a winter fly bangs the ceiling thin groundhog soup

the strange poetry of dreams I wake up so thirsty