Poem 14

A concrete windowsill
on a house
a place where the caterpillar chose
to create its cocoon
on this day, breaks open
birthing a butterfly
which dries its wings, shaded,
by the brick house

Twilight enters the city
on the south side of St. Louis,
a street lined
with brick structures
overhead, a bat, smaller than
the chimney sweeps,
flies along, gobbling up
unsuspecting insects

At the office, outside the entryway
lies a bird, on concrete
black and white stripes,
along its breast, a yellow crown
on his head, dead,
the ants have begun to dine
killed by colliding
with tempered glass

Dragonflies, of majestic colors
in different sizes
slice through the parking lot
on silent wings
over the cars

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