DAYBREAK
(c) Laura Stamps
There is a place
behind a catâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s ear
as sweet as summer
jasmine, as soft as
the satin purse of
a mink. I rest my
cheek there often,
listening to the syrup
of birdsong twisting
its silver threads
through the skyâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s
orchid hair, as buds
of sunrise blossom
in apricot and
tangerine, and I
wonder about the
flaring water-music
of the wood thrush
and how many
levels of joy my
body can bear.
(c) Laura Stamps
There is a place
behind a catâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s ear
as sweet as summer
jasmine, as soft as
the satin purse of
a mink. I rest my
cheek there often,
listening to the syrup
of birdsong twisting
its silver threads
through the skyâ€[emoji]8482[/emoji]s
orchid hair, as buds
of sunrise blossom
in apricot and
tangerine, and I
wonder about the
flaring water-music
of the wood thrush
and how many
levels of joy my
body can bear.
