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the sight as the sun fell
December 6, 2019
the bed of pine needles are
bunny fur soft
burrowing little claws into my toes.
the shadows of a tree
stands tall and intimidating,
and it consumes the sun behind,
holding the decaying moon
higher.
as the horizon ate the sun,
the winter wrens strut and swept,
their feathers
soft
in the orange sky.
the frigid air
hollows my breath,
a plume of smoke leaves me
like the delicate
and simple
shed of needles
© Caitlin E., Sammamish, WA
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