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Wilding Fawn
I saw the raven night withdrawn
as scarlet of a peacock dawn
arose atop the crested east
and as the bleeding scape increased
one feral star I wished upon.
I prayed for summer fire to yawn
across my salamander lawn--
lay low the winter's ice-fanged beast.
But even now gold hours are gone,
September's afternoons are drawn
away to Autumn's umber feast,
its shadows porcupine released
as further strays the wilding fawn.
10/9/17
Copyright ©
Dale Gregory Cozart
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