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A lion is in everything

A lion is in everything. 
A beautiful lion, sure, 
of many colors and 
times of day, but 
still, a lion.

Especially it is 
in the composites
we let run wild on the dunes
beyond the outhouse:
purple in chicory, pink in bull thistle, blue in
aster,  yellow in hawkbeard and salsify.

Especially it is in the stones we gathered from the creek bed
to light the pathway with reflected moonlight at midnight.

Especially it is
wherever Gramma 
suggests it is, instructing me
to fear the lion each time
she notices me near.

I’m not afraid.
But worse, whenever I speak there’s a tiny lion in every word.
I open my mouth to speak and a tiny beautiful lion states its sunflower poem and curls up in the cabin to watch me awhile. I don’t like his eyes.

Posted 07/23/15
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