4 September 2024 (the moss)
Kristen Lindquist
the moss cool
under my bare feet . . .
late-summer crickets
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BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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the moss cool
under my bare feet . . .
late-summer crickets
rustling poplars . . .
a night-heron hunches
on the neighbor’s roof
a crane fly slips
through an open window
late-night tv
along the dirt road to the village the sea
golden hour
the chickadees’ dee-dee-dees
spotlight a merlin
sunlight starlight . . .
question marks cluster
on fallen apples
morning chill unsettling calls of blue jays
family farm
a quartet of crows surveys
the just-mown hayfield
sun filtered
through ash leaves . . .
magical thinking
morning thunder
a patch of Queen Anne’s lace
shakes with rain
a meadowhawk returns
to the perch he flushed from —
bent goldenrod