City in winter Snow like a powdery coat Cloaking everything
Metallic green-blue, Wing beats faster than heartbeats, Dances with flowers.
Bright orange fur glints Against pine forest green light, Hiding from the hunt.
Grow to the sun My sweet little purple leaves Opening like hearts
Reflecting metallic against the light, dark poison green swirled with shimmering gold, pooling into a prismatic puddle. The goo holds onto my fingerprints and presents them back to me, a mirror of every tactile indentation. Slowly it melts back into a shapeless pond, like a toxic blob reaching for the edges of its prison. It stretches and reaches, pulls and resists. The last sticky threads of attachment desperately cling to the bottom of the tin. It looks like a deadly taffy, a warning that its tacky, gummy consumption will lead to discomfort and despair.
Calling out among the reeds and rushes
Are the striped throat loons and red
Tinged frogs.
They sing a song over the rippled water
About the way the sun paints the clouds
In the evening light. The
Lake is a mirror, reflecting back the
Sky and the puffy brown cattails dipping in the wind.
Swiftly flowing down the rocky face of
The mountain, weaving among stones and
Redwood trees, it gurgles and gushes around
Every turn, but then settles
As it dips into a still pool, under bright green ferns,
Making a shaded haven for flashes of rainbow fish.
Seagulls sharp cries as they dip,
Entering the foamy tops of waves,
Asking for clams while the ocean kisses my toes.
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