Burning with Bristle

Image result for tumblr photography

Ryegrass seeds
spread like
wildfire.

The wake
of noon,
has been
long overdue.

Swallowtails
land upon
newly grown
weed stems.

Wind gusts
break in—
fear stirs
gray wolf
neck hair.

You
hold out
your hand,
attracting daylight
and mid-summer sky
hush.

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