Peter Grandbois | CROW FINDS A GRAIN OF SAND LODGED IN THE BACK OF HIS EYE

And has a vision of a mountain lake, feather oil mixing with rain The water at the shoreline a quivering mother berating the rock Her song dripping with dark knowing that braids its way to a beach where a child plays with bucket and trowel, arcing sun whistling across brow And there’s the way out—…

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