tercet sun

Chilly dawn at water’s edge

Anole hides in bush

Waiting on the sun

Suction toes hold it

Hanging on the underside of a leaf

You gather dead limbs

Add them to your burn pile

For cooler nights to come

You study a preliminary translation

For ‘Ode of the Dove’

Sip cold tea

Wish you were a better poet

Hang on the chilly side

Of a dangling participle

Waiting on the sun

6-19-22