In the Absence of Monsters

In the absence of monsters,
Aquila’s angels beam down
upon soft cheeks resting atop
mother’s shoulder.

A flying eagle soars through
slender stems carrying golden
garments of majesty.

In the absence of monsters,
we cannot possibly conceive
of the
pear blossoms reclining at
the end of the rainbow.

It is the autumn of needles.

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