a wee poem…
the healing ears
(not a typo either)
a hanging half moon night is
nagging away a blue sky day
driving back home… stopping in on the way
a mallard stands at the store door
mum, with a butcher knife
still screams in my ears
remnants
that i got way too close
to an unknown
full-swing baseball bat
the many drums are healing once again
yes please, the resonant.
by weaver © copyright… 💕