Monday, October 19, 2009

Dawn

As though rising from the ground
it begins to spread its apricot blush
I feel the sacred hush
as all becomes
silhouette

now a fiery orange the background
for the butterfly bush,
filigreed against the horizon
like intricate lace

where later a mass
of dusty-winged creatures
will gather, stained glass,
to flutter and tremble the leaves
with the weight
of nothing.

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