by Meg Smith
Some glory pales,
through winter trees —
like a deer, a flame leaping
in the arc of its own night.
cannot keep me
in the cold, copper light.
© 2019 Meg Smith
Meg Smith is a poet, writer,
journalist, dancer and events
producer living in Lowell, Mass. Her poems have appeared in The
Cafe Review, Pudding, Poetry
Horror Zine, Silver Blade, Raven Cage, The Blue Hour Anthology, and
Her most recent poetry books, This
Scarlet Dancing and Dear
Ghost, are available on Amazon. She welcomes visits to
Find more by Meg Smith in the Author
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