Janet Butler

Hieroglyphics

The day dawned clear.

Skies a watercolor wash
of Chinese blues
domed the April morning
calligraphic strokes
of branch and flower
raised against that flawless sky.

But a dark thing lifted its awful head
and scuttled with crablike thoughtfulness
across the freshness
of a tender, dainty, budding earth
unaware
of terror
there
behind that perfect curve
of a perfect April day.

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