Slipping down turrets of green
And setting the copperpods to vibrate
Her games trifle varied.
Again and again, skimming over filigreed boughs
She stumbled down in golden shards
And splintered upon a grassy lawn.
What light she snuck from under leafy eaves,
There careless upon the grassy lawn.
Not knowing that seasons change
And another day, to this same hoar-crested patch
Would she turn her steps-
No hoar, no crest-
But for it chirruped louder still;
Stealing from branch to branch,
Proud of her tricks.



FOOTNOTE: Posting April in July because procrastination.



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