A dried brown hibiscus leaf
Fallen to the ground assumes
The shape of a tiny swan its stem
The curving neck and beak
Its shadow a snail or better
A shipwreck's tangled sail
The forms keep changing fingered
By the breeze until finally
It's tossed out over the yard
Where I catch and crumble it
In my hand and sprinkle
The dust at the branching base
Of my old hibiscus bush
So in devouring all its forms
It might come to bloom again
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