On the tip of a hill, the silhouette is of something not of this world,
the body silent in the birth of another shadow, swelling still
among stars & veins. The sun dropping below the mountains left
...
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It feels to me, as if you may have hit an animal by mistake, but in visiting its resting place, have at least shown empathy if not sympathy. Nice poem, even if I missed your real mark. Danny
I enjoy it.Thanks for shairing, Jon.