The Lightening

On the last morning of October
Between the scalloped water
And the slab of gray
The low angled sun slices through'
And flashes the the lone gull
I might say silver or white
But you know the color
Everything surprises, the way
They shift when you look at them
On the morning of Samhain
They shimmer and lift-up
Your heart, like that red leaf
Wet in your tremmoring hand
Raising the fallen

One thought on “The Lightening

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