by John Grey Trilling air in morning fog flutters the treetops. Then mist lifts, warblers emerge, lake mirrors sky from here to the mountain foothills And huge vistas now encompass the small, from a beetle on a leaf to the roses in a garden. The opaque has its charms but clarity gives voice to depth and distance With light in abundance, all colors are accounted for. And ghosts are now people with long lives ahead of them. * * * John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, North Dakota Quarterly and Tenth Muse. Latest books, ”Between Two Fires”, “Covert” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Birmingham Arts Journal, La Presa and Shot Glass Journal.
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