Diana Noble Coral Springs (Sally Naylor)
He displays contradiction: a fusion of tears and laughter.
A sun-shower, fragmented in raindrops & flecks of light.
He scatters butterflies yet nurtures
spring flowers. With a shift of the breeze:
here then gone.
He mixes, then molds a spectrum of Play-Doh
melding his tones with precision.
Colors each day: sculpting 100 vermillion
monsters, chameleons, and blue guitars.
A silken parasol, strong yet delicate, imprinted
by weathered days, unfurled, as he parades
his ribs and stretchers, how he
clasps the shaft tightly and shelters from tempests.
When closed, he’s a Billy club braced for danger.
A wild mushroom, he sprouts quick as weeds.
Nourished by a forest, blooming in the decay,
he labors to climb up among great oaks and fern.
Spawned in searing heat, a raw gemstone,
cast by the confines of imagination, he leans
into the flames then facets himself anew.
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