Open palm

The woodpecker works the dead branch.
He knows something’s in there.

Under the roots of things
a river flows, a heart empties.

A thread, a movement, a doorway,
a breast with milk in it.

Sometimes the path is long
and bears much following.

But still, the world
is an open palm.
 

 

Leave a comment

0
Your Cart
  • No products in the cart.