Light of the Straw Meadow

Metallic impact

Shook senseless in the void

How was she to know?

Now mourning the brush stroke lost

This cruel shift of color

Provides no answer

Square one’d and starved for inches

Raven haired, wounded

Imagination exiled

Till further notice

I stood by patiently

Kept my storybook close

Knowing all the while

This gentle butterfly poet

Would once again emerge

In the light of the straw meadow