Risen

His talons scratch / below the surface
He dabs the dirt / from my cold eyes

Is there no valor in sleep / in dreams
trees listen / with interest /

they record/my desires
the earth moves / now hot
to my touch / he’s in me / and I in him

We rise / Again


https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/495607133986824093/

De Jackson is today’s host for dVerseβ€˜ Quadrille Monday.  De says:
Write a poem of exactly 44 words, including some form of the word dab. 

36 thoughts on “Risen

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