Chrysalis

It is
    green paint boiling off
      antlers dusted in sun

specks of moss
    ink black streaks
      a surgeon working

like a machine
    in clinical gulfs
      dead leaves sprouting

wings finally.

Click

The camera saw
and continued along
dot by dot it drew
the sky
the shy moon
      embracing
      all of it
then to the other side of the lake
sweat now gathering in the corners
      of millions electric eyelids
      as gentle summer
      drops from the trees.

Published by The Write Launch