Midnight on House Mountain
Every word runs the hills at night - *
I can see them out there,
moving steadily through the trees,
yellow-orange light where there should
be only darkness. Their scent:
woodsmoke, tang of skunk, bitter
copper of decaying leaves. Listen –
can you hear the short stutter-step
of consonants, vowels baying at the moon?
– margo solod
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*line by W.S. Merwin