leaving Capistrano
a swallow's flight
across pale blue sky
thinned in the chill of the season
the bleached stucco tower's
clay tile roof
drinks the red glow
of a morning sun
struggling
against the persuading cold --
a shoulder pushing in vain
the unwanted relative
that just won't leave anymore;
a wisp of white cloud lingers,
the bouquet of
dawn's redwine caress
slowly leaving,
washed in fresh light
of winter's first day.
Jon Bohrn (1998)

 

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