August 23, 2019

A branch of mottled green-
A tiny breeze
That lifts each darkened disc
With silvery, flickering dew
that lies like beads-
bedazzled diamonds on an ear that moves,
blinking with the light-

Until the heated breath
absorbs and flattens, wetting life,
and stillness rides the leaf
without that beauty-

The spectacular again becomes
The mottled green-

And stale and plain and singular life goes on-