For years I have been sure that there’s a poem in the woodshed. Today, I seem to have found another fragment:
Perhaps if I leave it here, along with the other side, which is rather more like last week’s autumn wings, I’ll be able to find it when I am ready to put the pieces together.
It’s also an excuse to repost this fragment (which is clearly an outdoor fragment, not part of the poem in the woodshed):
From among fallen leaves, the wind
lifts a broken butterfly wing
and gives it flight.