ant5

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under the full moon

frosted grass

glowing blue

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tales that

compose you their

ligatures have gone

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combing

the cat you split

your seam

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in their pen

the chickens watch

the jays gloat

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he blends in

with the leftovers

beetle

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new glasses

everyone looks

weathered

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kind of like

a holiday

for frogs

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the rain lifts

turkeys

block the road

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I get by

on ghosts

and the tarot

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he bobs his head

then stops bobbing it

winter fly

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