cornflake-orange / rich pigment of leaf dust / frames old concrete
Dry cement dust, / a pale, dusty-winged moth, / pollen-dust tears. / They run from their corners / when thick summer rain falls.
Combining photography and poetry.
Shining white lines /
of spider thread are sketched /
on perfect blue /
between the lightning forks /
of a dead tree’s branches.
Quivering in /
the cool breeze, but also /
basking in sun — /
the only leaf to dare /
to stretch out past the ledge.
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