Mixed Media
by Duane Niatum
The stars grow lemon
in the field, spread
like tea leaves in
a cup; red-wing
blackbirds fold themselves
into the fence,
corn dreamers.
The sky undulating
with clouds returns
gold-throated arpeggios
to the one walking
at sunrise, sunfall.
Light as the air
I sit on my
cottage steps;
a tom cat come
home to die for
the day.
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