Spirits of the Bog
Beneath the twilight’s reddened glow
where silvered waters softly flow,
the maples flame against the reeds
and bullfrogs leap and hide in weeds.
Tag: Nancy Sobanik
Liminal Space of Dawn
We watch the fading back of darkness edge / sway and feel the shrinking chill on flesh /which lies-or is it mouths?- in cooling air; / averse to moving from our rumpled bed.
Bottle of Sky
I pin my wash in silvered light to soft chorale of laughing leaves, the twittering of sparrows back, this golden …