The sun has turned the sky white
and made all outlines sharp.
Seeking out the shadows it lingers
in all the dark corners
and cold spots.
The dark forbidden place
of mushrooms brightens,
the snake sleeps in the plain sight,
the Black Widow has left her home,
the Hibiscus opens
bows its head
then folds into death.
The crow’s laughter fills the air.
In the back room the shade is pulled
but around the edges and through
the tiny pin prick of a whole
in the middle
the sun beams
exposing a dust ball in the corner
and a stain on the carpet
in the middle of that perfect pink rose.