Friday, January 8, 2021



poem by e.e.cane

Jan. 8, 2021

Click the shutter,

the view-master turns

as a cool chill

raises the skin

Raccoons in coats

and bow ties,

the fur party

—party of animals—

claws, so shoes won’t fit,

scratch the trail

The air is clear

The trees bare

The wind carries their threat

of that which cannot stand

it’s own nature

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