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  • Through the liquid clarity of an otherwise confused day,
    through the search for a lost touch and the search for words,
    to express that loss, through the first fallen leaves of autumn,
    small flat fading suns on the summer-lush grass, among
    the first oranges and reds of the new season, under the sunflowers,
    with their heavy bright faces looking down at me, among the ferns
    edged with brown and the gathering blackbirds came
    the first mourning cloak of autumn, the one that overwinters
    as itself, as I do, and then, with a heavy thump and palpitation,
    I knew, I knew.


    Photo of mourning cloak in April, after overwintering as an adult. Poem and photo by me.
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