Most things are concealed
inside of
fluorescent light or
inside a bubble of
social anxiety.
But some things,
silent, delicate things
(imagine a hyena's
last breath),
while not moving, can
be exploding,
and ache with a
muted tragedy or perhaps
a perfect happiness
(Imagine a plane crash)
(Imagine the same plane
crash in slow motion).
I JUST DON'T KNOW.
the hooves of a deer trample softly
the midnight snow.Photo by Fred Watford. Words by Randy Conner.
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