The Arrival

It was in the come-and-go time
When every breath of breeze
Was speaking.
I followed the fallen feathers,
And each step was another mile
Further from your glacial
Blue-eye gaze —
Shattering like blown glass
Thrown against the walls
That you built,
While I stood guard.

That time —
And each time after that —
They led into the desert,
Those signs.
The dusty air —
My undying thirst —
A fiery crucible —
And then,
At last,
The unclouded mirror.

Now again
The gravel fills my shoes,
But she sends the rain —
Words whispered through windows.
And as always,
Least expected,
My eyes find them again.
And I cannot stop reading
These bits of inked parchment
Curling in green and brown bottles —
A doe and fawn watch the sun set.
A line of geese skids into the river.
A bullfrog sings from the mud.
And the redwings watch for intrusion.

I kneel by the path.
The monarch
Tangles in the silver net
Meant to keep weeds at bay.
Gently now,
Unwind the web.
Wings dance against cool skin
And frayed threads,
As cupped in my lettered palm
She sips blood nectar.
Wary watcher,
She listens for the coming clouds.
Her flight lights the fire,
And blindness burns away,
The reflection


About Emily

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

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