black fades from its own fullness

extinguishes the nightlight
undressing trees from their
truest colors

stars are orphaned by
the wakening day
cloudbanks break for
a larger sun

notice as an aged fall flower
straightens her crooked spine
startles the grazing white-tailed deer
to run with the wildwater

it seems the air is colder here
just before the light
as if the warmth was somehow
left behind
a dozen years long

forgotten to the fields
like the secret language of butterflies
By Lori Hamilton, © 2015, All rights reserved.


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