The Literary Phoenix

Funny, the damage a silly little book can do. Especially in the hands of a silly little girl.

Snow drifts.
Caught in an alley
of ice and cold,
she carries herself
like a summer bird
trapped in the throes of winter.

There is nothing here-
a desolate wasteland
and she flutters her dirty feathers,
clucking her beak…
then still all at once…
two eyes in the darkness….

A snap.

The skinny fox
sulks away
into the night.

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