Thursday, January 21, 2016

New Land

Do the bones haunt you?
The starved sheep abandoned
in the crumbling mortar walls
left by fleeing predecessors.

November kills everything.
Is there beauty in this death?

Cobalt skies setting foliage afire
fleecy wisps of cloud
arctic birds escaping
southward to your Yankee ancestry
chasing Acadian ghosts.

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