Three Poems

Kinglet

A smoke-gray  snippet  flicking
mist  from the madrone  we had forgotten
it zipping  through the limbs  huddled inside
all winter  its brisk
swagger  ramping and sizzling  loopy  freaked
flashing its tiny  gold crown  as if to say
see how  in love we are   how brief
how fitfully  burning

People on couch
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