Wednesday, April 2, 2008


the moon may birth a twin,
a pale companion in a dark sky

when the old year dies, a new one
may rise from its mineral-leached bones
stretching fresh limbs

paired sparrows may fall, lost
as butterflies, startled into flight
take their place, rising in smoky clouds, their
intricately woven wings perfectly matched

yet there is only one of you
there is only one of
is only one

Rachel Westfall
April 2, 2008

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