sky rotates like a watch fob
small creatures skitter across dusty alleys
raising small clouds
invisible but for indentations
giving indications of paranormal activity
fleeting critical awareness
illuminates understanding like
phosphorescent mushrooms
in a grotto dripping
calcium water having
never seen light.
Their promise was wrapped
in the senescence
of a chrysalis hanging frozen
from a wind-blasted pine
at the top of mountain ridges
having no expectations
nor memory of the half-sphere
overhead dotted white by
small clouds twisting
into turrets weeping tear crystals
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