ant5

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the cat

says maybe

I’m a poem

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like a moth

a star flickers

next to the moon

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on the perimeter

moth

afterimage

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flowering grasses

catch the last of

the setting sun

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in the shade

of the jasmine

the flies grow still

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the only harvest

left in the fields

fire

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late in the day

dusty chickens

on your feet

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the highway

dies down for

a constellation

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the moon

a little bigger

cricket in the birdhouse

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buoyed by dew

the white rimmed

feather of a dove

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