“In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.
You dance inside my chest
where no-one sees you, but
sometimes I do, and
that sight becomes this art.”
― Rumi

Saturday, January 31, 2015

Winter morning


Grim and brooding and cold,
gnarled fingers raised 
to the heavens

stencilled painstakingly 
Every dark little twiglet
White on black

The proverbial silver lining?

Or perhaps the love child of
a wayward zebra
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