melted, ran, flowed down-
stream, mesmerizing as they
ran clear, brighter than any sun
day and the forests flexed with the
muscle of loggers, lakes crested
heavy with shippers, next to fields
full of poppies, lavender, spring
anenomes that only nod their white heads
for over a week - yet all these brightened
as the words tumbled by, in love with
themselves, clothed in a magical purple -
their own bruised truths. When darkness
fell you could hear them all singing, as if
they had just become something
closer to magnificence.
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