Friday, May 3, 2013

The Molt




The Molt

A drift of deer
appear in the morning fog,

tufts of winter fur
snagging,
on bushes, shrubs,

as if leaving behind
a favorite shirt, faded
to pale,
a sliver necklace,
you once gave me.

Then they’re gone.

4 comments:

Ron Antonucci said...

A multi-talented, beautiful and smart writer woman. I like that.

Terry Dubow said...

Beautiful, Sarah.

sarah willis said...

Thanks, guys! You're too nice! (Stay that way.)

Kings of Cardio said...

A+! I'll be following your blog!