Morning opens a fresh page,
and chickadees offer first words.
Penstemon, paintbrush form adjectives,
spill color in high meadows,
and streams rush verbs,
glinting from the glacier.
Afternoons, rain clouds punctuate
the sky with lightning exclamations, pepper
the lake with commas, colons, dashes.
In the evening, herons fish —
parenthetical against the sunset.
At night stars blink ellipses.
There is rustling in the margins.
– Sarah Russell
Photo courtesy of Marty Loveday
Poem for Real Toads prompt on metafiction.