20: risen

like a child giggling
good-night beneath
her blanket, dusk
fingers the clouds,
then trumpets the
march toward dawn;
the clarity night
brings alters
enough for change
to grow into a
newer day, safe
from all
the misjudgments
that friend and foe
place upon you
like stone slabs
over tombs.
(from a work in progress: “Arcana,” November 22, 2013)

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