Sylph

chimerical shadow
leaps
from a misty weald
where the air
hangs
as still as a spider

(where-once-dewdrops
were silvery strung
most delicate crystals)

star-spun spirit
of comet-caped
Candlemas
dancing
moon-sown
sun-sewn
garden phoenix

wind-quick
in its cloak of flight
the silent
silhouette
spiraling
skyward

Find more by John M. Marshall in the Author Index.

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