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  • Writer's pictureLeann Shamash

Morning Glory

A morning glory came to visit me today.

She appeared as a piece of the sky

that had mistakenly floated down and

lit upon my porch.

"Good morning," Morning Glory, I said

and she waved.

She danced as she held onto a gossamer thread.

She waved and twirled with the whispers of the wind.

I offered her a drink of water.

She took a sip, but not much more.

All the while I marveled at her blue-ness

for she was so marvelously blue.

As blue as the sky on the clearest day.

As blue as I would imagine heaven would be.

I memorized her color so that I would remember her

on winter days when the summer would be just a memory.

I was puzzled why I merited a visit from a piece of the sky

and I asked her why.

She just smiled,

a shy and patient smile,

a smile as liquid as water,

for perhaps she had been asked this before.

As the day wore on, I could see that my visitor,

this silk fabric of the heavens;

this miracle who dressed in blue, grew weary.

We knew she would soon depart.

Her blueness slowly disappeared as she folded into herself

again and again.

Smaller and smaller the blue sky-flower shrunk

until all that remained was a single dot of blue.

Oh Morning Glory,

oh, fallen piece of the sky above,

I will remember you in winter, when all is black and white.

Your blue is imprinted in my heart

where summer always lives.

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