Brief Escape by Eira Needham

Rising above brume,
I sail on a cirrus carpet
through far-flung cerulean;
sun bussed.
Hirundo rusticas flock by
with a flash of russet throats.

The eye of heaven flutters,
stippling evening;
pomegranate across white
chiffon curtains.

Parachuting earthward
with sycamore, swirling
towards appliquéd leafage,
I crash land in the mist
slumped on my chaise lounge
by the window.

Twilight peers through the panes.
Drawing the drapes across his sneer
I switch the light on seasonal despair.
He lingers outside, waiting
for the scarab beetle
to roll back the sun.

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