This Second is an Orphan is a time poem, a reflection on how moments are a patchwork of place, people, and grace.
This Second Is an Orphan – Time Poem
Let's laud the loud and quit the quiet Let's whisper zilch and oar the roar this second' is the crook where red bulbs char the shell. Now, a ball of fluff is fluttering. When fledgeling us we lumbered and fled through the woods. We were treading on moss, like hens threading a blanket of corn and chaff, the way quills shed yellow down when little chicks try catching a breath. Outside, we flap. You travel my skin, and I, I trace your hands as snowdrops cloud the wintery fields, our lips whistling across the coop where fat hens hem and then, lend their wings to the wind.
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