Emergence

 

It’s dark here,
inside the chrysalis,
and cold.
Dreams come slowly
and dissolve incoherently
Into each other.
A dog barks, but it’s an owl
asking big questions,
now a whisper through silk.
But this new dream
smells different, breathes deeper.
A tiny dot of light
and she struggles toward it.
The light grows, she fights free.
Weakly, she extends muddy-hued wings,
one to north, one to south.
They dry into brilliant
red, orange, yellow.
Presently, rested,
the Dawn leaps into blueness
and dances into the sun.

 

Copyright ©2020, Paul H. Harder II
This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.