On the side of the hill, where
hundreds of sunflowers had nodded
and turned their faces toward
last August’s brilliant golden light—
there, she turned to me,
and her face was pale as a star,
falling from the sky into the waiting
arms of leafless trees, their branches
straining, reaching upward
to catch her as she tumbled by, soft
and weightless as a feather,
too ethereal to seize,
too temporal to remain aloft.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Landscape at Twilight (1890), Vincent van Gogh,
oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons
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