At sunrise, bare feet wet with dew,
I crossed my garden path to tend beans.
Too early for bugs I thought and leaning to
Clear a weed before the heat of day
Missed a moth out on morning adventure.
The familiar fizz buzzed by my dozing brain
And eager to forget the fading flick,
Failed to see what beckoned.
The sparkle must have seemed
A chandelier quivering in morning light,
Shielding the single shadow that lied
In wait. No rest for he who in still of night
Worked the ancient ritual knowing at dawn
The innocent glimmer of midnight art might
Blind his eager prey.
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