Vanilla Shell
morning daze - vanilla haze
stabbed by crepuscular rays
- a frisky prism seeking color,
finding fauna fronds, a thousand greens
and ... me
vanilla, wondering how something so light
can be born from something so dark
- something so sweet from something so bitter?
That vanilla shell which cloaked dawn
now chased through the trees,
weeping on leaves, yet
it is not truly gone ... it sails by on a cloud
and knits tomorrow's shawl...
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2023
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