They
struck away from her, exploded outward white
shards spinning metered in soft mauve, blue-gray,
and engendering myriad unique reflections.
White pellets they were
shot out from Esme(e) cracking the pale clear
sky awaiting them. Instant's
tesserae reverberant patterning vision, white
and changing imbrications shell-like from her they
set Esme(e) irrevokably apart.
Turning,
cloth in folds took her and swathed her not
in transformation, for we yet knew her,
nor in colors only. Turning,
the plum cloth enclosed her and the white birds
broke apart that smooth purple pillar, shattered
all like the sound of breaking glass.
I thought
the vitreous sky had shattered.
In
a way, it had.
Esme(e) stood turning in 1 fluid move whose
inherent power whip-like augmented to destructive
force had she not the will, the
compassion for us, to constrain it.
She stood,
rising up within the meadow a
fountain integral and illustrious and white
birds struck away from her startled, their
wings beating hollow in the stilled air.
