Savanna Reid
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Through half a window pane
 

Through half a window pane I nudged ahead
of you to shimmer in the space between
my shoulder and your touch. Behind the seen
a stillness found release - the trees’ pulse sped.

A bird’s escape into the wind’s grip led
the branches into edgeless motion’s sheen.
Inside your reach again, I watched light clean
the centers from the shadows each limb shed.

Undazzled or communing with the flash
and murmur of the moment’s self-discovery,
a blur of ordinary shapes grown brash
in sensing their own signs, all symmetry
abandoned for the whole, you drew the crash
in to us with a cool that stilled the tree.  

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Savanna Rose Reid is an environmental student in Las Vegas. She writes a good news roundup for Guerrilla News (GNN.tv), to brighten gloomy Mondays. Her poems have appeared in Scribble and a Fishtrap workshop anthology.
E-mail: inkwell_11 (at) yahoo (dot) com
 

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