Two by Sarah Rehfeldt

Early Morning on the Quillayute

In the half-light, half-rain
morning fresh of dew,
I drink this place,
the lingered-over water,
much.

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Goldenrod

Let’s be something
like snow melting…
petals slipping from their branches into water,
form and gold returned to mystery and light –
released again – yes,
as wings must always be.