*
everything speaks
to me
of mending lately
I hear that word
inside
a practice very few
are aware of and
even
less know how to
I see ants mending
sewing
dirt to the ground
endlessly humming
birds
working the low air
other birds unknown
to me
reach out to clouds to
attach them to the sky
for me
it’s all there to see
as I lay beside men who
only
know how to punch holes
.
.
.
.
annamosca 
Thoughtful piece, Anna. No need to mend this ending, it’s just perfect with that hole punched through it.
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that’s wonderful and amazing imagery. i really love it.
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❤ A beautiful piece.
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Thank you! I’m happy you like it… 🙂
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Very fine.
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