Air, thinned by the mountain,
autumn, night, insinuates itself
through cold-lipped partings in
the louvre-glass. The fridge purrs
like an animal, its belly full,
and outside in the stippled forest,
dense beyond the dappled yard,
an owl's cry fills the hollows
that a waxing moon left dark.
Night on the Mountain, Abydos
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103020200210
Свидетельство о публикации №103020200210
Рецензии