The spinning enjoyment of dusk’s communal culture,
whose language of content spreads its contagious calmness
through the winding metaphorical maze of
regard for existence, the triangular connection
of movements, spaced between etching fragrant
gifts toward a particular purpose of its own meaningful
motive.
As in the wonderful movements of monarch butterflies,
their orange wings with adorning black-white ornamental
displays of transferable sections of moving, circular light.
Antecedently to dawn’s open mouth, darkness in the safe
idiom hides below the highest halo, golden hanging light
not yet born before the pushing of the orange slant,
its genesis causes separation to shed myriad of variant
colors to escape into mesmerizing mannerisms.