The meadow sweet, the beehive cluster,
a nebula of blooms in sequence.
One, two, three cherry blossoms
in an ancient orchard,
so reddened and subdued.
Wear thick eyeglasses,
for red flower
robin's egg
bright forsythia
is risky to the eye,
like a red hot penny in the hand.
A wide angle lens will try to tell you,
"North is up."
But there's merely an edge
moving to swallow midnight into day,
a volcanic surge, a rising planet,
a gathering glow eclipsed in dull red
as dawn approaches.
Be sure to squint, or you might fall in love.
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