The sky is the color of the snow on the roof next door,
so that it looks like all sky, no house.
Trees frame the lack of house,
branches arched in a question
as to its whereabouts.
Either the trees don't know
or they're playing along, part of the ruse,
or it is just their nature
to wonder.
*photo from Purdue University, ash tree.
Blindspot.
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Despite the fact that most of the people who read this blog know me, I tend
to treat it as an anonymous airing of the soul. I pretend that people who
kn...
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