Mono No Aware
Lauren Scharhag
by Lauren Scharhag
in the plum tree
a sleeve of tattered snakeskin
which the tufted titmouse will pluck
to line its nest
in the grass below
rabbit bones picked clean
on the back fence
climbing milkweed withers
having exhaled its seeds
the birdbath basin slowly erodes
its stone streaked beneath
years of water
the trunk of the elm
pocked with holes
where the woodpecker feasted
and the chrysalis melts in the rain
like a ghost once it’s been shed
by the Cabbage White
a moment
between seasons’ turnings
always flitting away
like wings
my shadow growing long
as the golden hour succumbs to indigo
Kommentare