We do not know
what to do
with the perfection of this world
the heart-bruising beauty
of spring — uniquely
shattering
the broken edges
of sunset coming hard
on the heels of a moss-green storm
or June fireflies rising
and falling
— a curtain of syncopated stars
glimpses of sublimnity
disturb the fragile heart irreparable
yet craving always more
(c) 2020 by Hannah Six
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