Like seasons that change
with the passing of time
suddenly colliding
Like the last of the autumn leaves
on a day of thunder
or the crystal stillness of a mirror
longing for visions
that surge like the dunes
and forever shift and rest
ever changing yet unmarred
Like the open fan of gilded paper
pleated fold on fold
who I am I won’t reveal
Like rain falling on cobblestones
black on black
© Ann Bagnall

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