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  • Penny Harter
    • Feb 2
    • 1 min read

[2[1[21]

Dried Grass-Leaves


after a photo by Tom Clausen


Fallen on the snow, these dry grass

leaves are glyphs we must translate—

each become a random calligraphy,

a pale ghost of its former self.


Perhaps they signal what we all will

become—reminding us that even as we

shape-shift life to life, our signatures,

unique as snowflakes, will endure.


© 2021 Penny Harter

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