finding flight

 

for a moment, on trembling wings
that span my hand, the pale moth
(like a flower, like the moon, like my heart)
watches, dark eyes alight
with the giddy scent of
sweet droop vine blooms
that hover purple otherworldly
in the quiet of the clearing –
until silent on soft wings
she takes to the sky,
gives herself to the night.

 

WhatsApp Image 2020-02-09 at 17.09.02
Multimedia drawing by Steven Hurt.

 

 

 

 

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