Wednesday, February 26


Patient primping queen
regal citrine
black-veined soft thing
flicker on a milkweed gate.

Lost on its journey miles
deep forest cries
no home to fly
sun fingers suffocate.

What do you know lovely
banter with honeybees
signals in trees
gilded small weight.

Leaves live no more
caressed in arms sore
subsistence a chore
leave it be--it's too late.

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