
JudithLeePhotography
We’ve learned to settle–
two woodpeckers sharing
a pine tree,
skin, thick corn husks,
lunar halos out of touch.
We no longer kill
crickets on our doorsteps.
Fog as prompter,
winter waits in the wings,
trilling flag,
ready to take center stage,
operatically sing.
d’Verse Poet’s Pub | Quadrille #164: Winging It
44 words using ‘wing’
I will be swooping around after my night class to be everyone’s wingwoman.





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