Horse-Fly
Yesterday...
I had
an idea...
today,
it sifts
through a
a mesh...
of...
memory:
the
pebble
slips
down
the hill
of
the dune
unnoticed,
'til
the
boy
kicks
a horse-
fly.
And
the
minute
sun-
bleached
stones
are tossed
into
the air,
in which
they
resemble
a chaotic
dance
of
gnats;
and
the
edges...
of
the
dune
slide
by
their
-hidden figures-
that
curve
into
-each other-
like
the
beach-
grass,
baked
deeply-
tanned
streaks
of
green
that
bend
-and touch-
within
the salty
wind.
And
every
ripple
of
the
sea
is
the
twinkle
-of stars-
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2020
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