For all his life, Frank had been at war with the willows. They sprouted in and around the stream, clogged the irrigation ditches, and choked off the water flow.
His land, a narrow plain between
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The mayflies kiss the glass
Of restaurant windows
Clinging to it
They mirror the fog
Pressing into the corners of everything
And the space in between
The restaurant is a
puddle of light in the
world
Soaking across the parking lot
Sponging helplessly at the mist
The mayflies just
stare inside greedily
Swallowing the
electric bulbs
whole
Of restaurant windows
Clinging to it
They mirror the fog
Pressing into the corners of everything
And the space in between
The restaurant is a
puddle of light in the
world
Soaking across the parking lot
Sponging helplessly at the mist
The mayflies just
stare inside greedily
Swallowing the
electric bulbs
whole