In curls and ringlets, dark
yet vividly expressed like broken brushstrokes
it bends and stretches out
across a piece of sky
that blotched in turquoise, purple, pink and orange
bids the day: “goodbye”;
this oak tree, curled as if asleep already
and yet stretched out too
as if it’s waking, stretching, yawning,
anticipating dawns that shall be coming.

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