one-eyed layer leaves thirteen eggs,
wolf in the dooryard bows and begs.
moon goes green
sun goes hazy
owl goes blind and ants go lazy.
bowlful of hail on the breakfast table,
ghost on a noose rope out in the stable.
kiss me now
when your man’s in the field
tart wet taste where the apple’s been peeled.
for Mary’s Mixed Bag “13”