And for once,

she is still.

she breathes in lilacs
and breathes out daffodils

she cocoons all winter
nursing her summer wounds
she flew too close to the sun, you see.

her skin left tarnished;
gaping
her spirit
her spirit does not decay.

she flies close because she can
because of the fire inside her
moth to a flame

her wax wings soften
like your heart when you first saw her

"i will fly again next year"
she whispers
through her tears