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Molt

Freckles of reddish-brown

on

strands of silky gray

along

a pale limb: white, almost translucent;

atop

a dress of rusty green moss.

Feather

alone at the end of the path,

who was your bird?

You were discarded,

cast down in the Molt.

Do not be disheartened,

I will cause you to grow.

I will dip you in ink

as black as can be

and you shall write things

that will set men free.


 

This is a piece of the collection titled "A Walk in the Woods", to see others included simply click: #awalkinthewoods

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