Friday, April 4, 2008


Eyes closed against the sharp pressure of the endless sun, she stood
dreaming night.

Deep blanketed night full of the rustle of feathers,
the clicks of insects, carnivorous eyes glinting in the light of the moon.

Rich full night blooming with the scent of grasses, campfire smoke
and the muggy fluid texture of the creek.

Smooth warm night wrapped in tides of swelling summer air,
enveloped in shivers of black velvet.

She raised her brush resolutely to her tongue, shaped its bristles
expertly into a curved point,

and painted night into being.

Rachel Westfall
April 4, 2008

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