Beauty in the Close

          Direct sunlight flattens the sepia leaves
               of the autumnal crepe myrtle

          An opaque matte brown, the pointed ovals
               rustle in the breeze

          Oh, they are beautiful enough, forming a delicate
               pattern of leaf and frond

          But when the sun’s radiance shines through them
               transforming them into the panes of a chapel window

          Ah, then they become magical
               glowing rich russet and rose and mahogany
                    a glory of sacred glass
                         revealing the divine foundations

          Of everything

In memory of my mother:
One Crossing
Too Late
Beacons Unreachable
Missing Her
Grievous Loss



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