Saturday, November 9, 2013

Butterfly Bush Remembers the Glint of Swallowtail's Wings

Too little of sleeping for so much feeling, I begin to look forward.

No, not so: I look ahead and behind, I watch my footfalls, I scan the sky.

I peer across the pond, through unseen limbs
trees no longer tracing
a plane at middle-ground. I avert my eyes
from the raw skin; at the join, my heart lags.

 ©2013 Ravenna Taylor

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