She glances
down
at her mother's hands
fluttering
like an autumn
monarch
having
long
since
laid
her
gifts
on the milkweed
world
her fingers
quiver
as if
keeping
time
with
the season's
staccato
taking
aim
she watches
as
torpor
takes
over
then stillness
She looks at her own
hands
seeing
the fine
shimmering
mica
of
memories
scales
her mother's wings
have left
behind
Camp NaNoWriMo Day 13
#campNaNoWriMo2024 #wabisabipoetry
#100daysforLionel
Lovely
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