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Another day at work.

"ANGÉLIQUE

Have you seen Angélique,
What way she went?
A white robe she wore,
A flickering light near spent
Her pale hand bore.

Have you seen Angélique?
Will she know the place
Dead feet must find,
The grave-cloth on her face
To make her blind?

Have you seen Angélique. . . .
At night I hear her moan,
And I shiver in my bed;
She wanders all alone,
She cannot find the dead."

--Adelaide Crapsey

Strange Birds.

"despite the morning frost
hollow rattle
as the sun goes down"

--@poem_exe 11-10-17

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