A monarch
so orange the color is sacred.
Burnt orange bellows, black panes.
Fractals of breath that are wings.
I try to breathe like that.
But mine is hidden, unconscious.
The monarch's, exposed, precious.
Orange. The monarch wearing its breath.
08/10/2009
2 comments:
this is lovely, it seems to capture the monarch really well,
Thanks for your kind comment, Juliet. Many years ago my former wife and I backpacked through the U.K. and Europe. Took a night train from London to Edinburgh. When the sun came up we looked out upon a loch and the long beautiful green hills. Edinburgh remains one of my favorite places. We traveled all the way to the small village of Findhorn.
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