a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The moon is most beautiful at her beginning, or end. Like a fine-edged sickle punctuating the blackness. Minimal. A lot like you. Not outstanding. Almost missed. Nevertheless beautiful. Step outside with me. We’ll see her from the steps. Let your skin touch the cold.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems