July 5

7_5.jpg

Again we emerge from water
in the shape of egg whites
with blue stars slashing
over the bulge of the yoke.

See me rise over a dry red dune
with the wind tossing blood devils
to the east where they shred
like early mornings cradled by lightning.

Such energy in the shadows
cast by grass, in island blurring
slowly into continent, in fox prints
white on the muddy cool of ponds.

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