Transfiguration

Oh, I recognize this,

Coming, as it does,

in the rush of weather changes,

wind chimes frenzied,

tree tops all astir . . . 

I don’t know if I’ve seen it before

but I’ve felt it,

The way those distant trees

(one layer behind the houses

across the street)

Are suddenly gold,

lit up at full attention,

limbs held in sudden

transfiguration

for a long moment in which

all I can do is watch . . .

One cottonwood took the chance

to dance copper and brass

instead of its usual silver,

Wildly, in full abandon,

until the glow was softly

lifted away.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 19, 2014