Four poems from POND – by John Stanizzi
1.12.19 7.12 a.m. 16 degrees Prescient wind anticipating the ice, leaves its handprint on the obsequious water which obediently freezes in place. Naysayers of the cold, a fistful of chickadees tossed into the bramble, will not deign to my plans; instead they demand I get busy feeding them. ** 1.13.19 8.23 a.m. 15 degrees Priding […]
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