Jenny George

Jenny George

by giarts-ts-admin

Crows assemble in the bare elm above our house.
Restless, staring: like souls
who want back in life.

— And who wouldn’t want again
the hot bath after hard work,
with soft canyons of splitting foam;
or the glass of spring water
cold at the mouth?

To be startled by beauty — drops of bright
blood on the snow.
To be radiant.

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