By Mark Francis
Chill
those puddles were chill
with frost where our Russian Blue
faked his first ice-bath
Sojourner
beyond fresh snowfall
one edge of cloud breaks off, heads
south over blue dunes
Sea Surge
undulations churn
up wide eyes, heart, splitting lungs
breath all wave and sky
Midnight Lines
moon pearls to pure white
as though rescuing starlight
from deep oyster night
Mark Francis has published poems and short fiction in university and small press venues. He currently is putting together a chapbook of traditional and experimental haiku.
Hot Pot Magazine 