by David Morley

David Morley

She sings light, he sings lightly, from the pine-needled nestcup.
He shifts lightly; she shifts light, among the burrs in the nestcup.
How slightly, how very slight, the sky shrinks to their egg shell hue.
How slight, how very slightly, light wakes from their egg shell hue.
He sees lightly, she sees light, in the pine-needle dark.
She sang light, he sang lightly, among the cedars in the dark.

The Invisible Kings

Last updated October 29, 2022