St Julian of Norwich
The just-fallen scarlet leaf
has become
a wing of fire
on the blurry nest of the pond;
ruffling the tangled solitude
of mirrored trees
that have been untying
their rippling-ribbons of light,
all day,
their rippling-ribbons of light,
all day,
over the deep fins of loneliness
swishing through
the shadows of things.
the shadows of things.
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