Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Snow-shed,
falling, cast the
willow in horefrost,
three bites broke your teeth
on yesterday,
a sliver, discarded
ran up the riverbed
just below our
bedside window,

you,
forging ahead,
captured a star,
you, castaway,
formed tomorrow
upon the
spinning wheel,
a sliver, discarded,
having built itself
up upon your memory,
remembers