a ragged fury of wind
shreds the last vestige of
daylight
summoning
the pall of winter night
calling forth crows to cloak
the sky
with wings draped in mourning crape
dense and desiccated
as smokers’ lungs
they suck the
last sip of light
bleeding the day dry
empty
as despair
until
a whisper,
soft as paper-winged moths
quickens the air
a supple heartbeat of light
emerging
lobed and limbed
growing plump and rosy
dawn’s cherub-cheeked warmth
blooms on hunched shoulders
hearts flower
full.
briefly wonder is nascent.
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Thanks for writing!
Jacqueline