he doesn’t remember I haven’t called out of touch, out of mind ~
the focused child hears the demon in the pen strokes ~
dusting off lawn chairs confident this rodent speaks the truth ~
scent of sunshine in this breeze scene refreshed ~
my red face turns the wall pink the sound of a pin ~
inhibited spruce straight jacket of ice until the sun ~
inquisitive child chocolate fingerprints on every page ~
jaded bird-hound catches the last mayfly cheerfully enough ~
yellowed morning mist the outraged howl of an unjust bomb ~
mincemeat pies impressed by the snowdrifts she makes by hand ~
