Hazeline

it is not the haze of the frost
or the fog, it is the core of the nut
that is important, not the brown
leafy involucre
but the one inside
that brown thing, it is the bliss
at the core of things,
the wish for good,
the touch that
sends the quiver in
my skin, all hazel, and filbert
and the hardness
which is soft inside.

please, do not say
any word.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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