Friday Haiku, and Blue Art with Free Verse Poetry

Butterfly landed
Its small wings pumping gently
New baby drying
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The Color of Blue

“Is that a raven perched so low on your shoulder, child?” I asked.
“No, Mother”, I answered. “It is only the dark angel resting for a moment.”
And so I sat, in front of the flames of the fireplace,
its opening a portal to another plane.
  Through an open doorway I watched the sun bake the hot sand outside,
my face feeling the heat of withering grass
 as it turned quickly before my eyes from bluegreen to crackly brown.
“Come in, child” I said at last.
“Come in out of the charring heat of the burning sun
and sit with me by the fire.
We will reminisce sweet days gone by.”
I glanced at the fireplace portal,
noticing the icicles forming from within the darkness of my chimney hole heart.
“But no, Mother”, I answered myself.
“The door is closing and I will not reach it before it latches."
And I knew the raven wings of the dark angel would spread
 like a barrier of time,
and hide the door that never existed.