poetry

drawn

Like pines that chase the fawn.

Lines drawn
    Upon his face,
  Like pines that chase
        The fawn:
    A race to dawn,
        For sun in haste,
    All save the songless swan;
  To undrape her lace,
        On hunters gone,
    Unto her face
      The blinds
Are drawn.


Previous Post:
    Poetry: Morton’s Fork
        https://windstrewn.com/2017/10/05/mortons-fork-2/


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