Mixed Moods
the sudden apparitions which come to me
—Pablo Picasso
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Sky dark,
Then white and blue;
Wind brightening the room
And dimming as if on cue.
The shadow play of trees
Torments me with your grief,
Conjures your form
But when I turn you're gone.
It’s a sunny day in June
For a ghost to be exhumed;
I’d expect you in the fall
When there is no life at all.