Heron Thinks of Flight

‘Neath Venus, embers
Fading into clotted clouds
Heron takes the heat.

Furnace of the leaves
Breathes autumn to the west wind
Heron senses pull.

Footfall dissolves rock,
And deer watch from shadow,
Running into cold fog.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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