by Senna Jawa
I love the "ishy" seasons, here. Nicely blurs the edges of language, too.
enter through these open doors
into these oft closed minds,
it is okay
your potato soup is waiting-
I hope you have been well
this took me to a train window into what might be day break or twilight no one can tell through the fog and motion, what season is coming who is going-- I love when poetry takes me like this, fade to black thank you sj