A contrast here
of rashly darkened sky
when from some other and oblique angle
there is light
rising and again
reflected down among us
where we sprawl damply in the wetted lawn
illuminated
though shadowless
unable to stop this glowing
which penetrates and envelopes in one motion.
Intuition
tells us fear though
reason sees no thing at all or
how we make our own faces into small
reflections
precise, acute
reactions to this washing,
an amber recoil and release into
what had been about to happen in that awful flare.
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