Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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CLEAR AIR

In the cold clear air of night
the stars are more intense
they bristle virulently across
the sky, infecting my mind
with wonder, until the fever
in my head soars, as exotic birds
escape a jungle, feather plumes
yellow, emerald greens, ruby reds
against an ebony veil with diamonds
of stellar light, luminous piercings
swirl of voices in rapturous strains.




Jan G. Otterstrom F. 3/14/2013