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a lotus blooms at dawn

 

summer mornings dab the sun
onto lapis sky

peaks of pink lotus protrude
from pond dimples

stray paint drops suspended
like floating fermata

water molecules vaporize
a silent migration

forming mist, breath
whisper—

as if hearing the query
a palm unfurls its digits

inside squats a half-tadpole
legs soggy, sensing

it sees me
and leaps

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