dew
one smooth hole straight through the chest without a jagged edge the life of a single berry on a long and thorny hedge
a wide expanse of nothing in the front and out the back old stars run through me like paper through a tack
short and sharp and so soon gone before one thinks to blink like the slip of silver jewelry down a glistening ivory sink
a wet and bleary sunset soaked a field in harvest gold where a single dew drop rested in a knitted grassy fold
if only the brute knew when he brushed against the blade that he rushed right by the nest where a perfect dew drop laid
a drop of frosted water has the use of lazy bees but the way it glints at dawn showed the universe to me