A roll of toilet tissue
and an old wired telephone.
The ladybug trapped alone
flies where it already flew
through the winter house. One shoe
with no laces. The dust blown
at each insect landing zone,
bug marks, the only shapes new.
No aphids to eat inside.
A piano. Brittle books.
No plants outside in the snow.
Eight chairs. All directions tried.
One green scarf, one grey, on hooks.
Naming things. The chance to know.
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A Ladybug Looking Out At Winter
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