12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

the val d’orcia

the sky sighs above
the val d’orcia
braids its assumptions
with a band of meltwater
together and glossy
they wander down
a very old street
gossip about the heavy-lidded
mountain at their back
chat with the armoured ghosts
paled by the day’s hour
flirt with sun
tickle fronds
they part at dusk
kiss goodnight
the rounding
shoulders of old men stones
caught offguard
midstream

Tell me wotcha reckon

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This entry was posted on May 16, 2013 by in Poetic forms and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

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