Winter's afterglow
Todd Bersley
She stretches on the sofa and
watches white apple blossoms
fall through the black branches.
Robins flutter in the pool nearby,
but cannot douse the orange-feathered
fire that makes them dance.
She sits there in the window,
flushed with sunlight,
remembering,
and feels the feathered fingers
brush her face,
choke her throat with down.
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