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The Noon-Day Sun
My sister,
Willa
Full of fire
and élan
Blazing
with glee
bright of mind
and of spirit.
At its summit
it becomes
scorching hot
and sears the skin
leaving it
scarlet,
parched,
sensitive.
Grant it attention or
wait for it to complete
its everyday migration
and it rolls, unhurried, across the azure ceiling
taking its own
sweet time.
But tell it
to slow its reckless pace
or plead
for it to “wait up”
and it only
accelerates.
Look away
for a split second
and she’s off
running
over the horizon.
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