yesterday, the three-pine path
green width, all breath
sheer shining sweat
hedge shirk, shrub work
thistle hex, monarch bless
black squirrel silence, stop
just long enough
today, mirror worlds
contemplation of interior
wardrobe doors ajar: a glimpse
hamlet with her golden hair
eyes like thin ice
cheekbones that slice
yes, it thrums, her slender thread
tomorrow, muscle and velocity
perhaps power, perhaps patience
try for steadiness, a ready will
summon a ghost
sunlight through carnival glass
a white nectarine
outside my window
a child screams
I really like thistle hex, monarch bless and eyes like thin ice … and your last line somehow makes the whole poem feel in part like a comment on the contrast between our thoughts (interior) and the world outside.