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