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The Big Dipper Full of Daisies

I like to believe

that when someone dies,

their soul explodes among the clouds

like a supernatural supernova.

Smaller pieces have fallen

to find home in the tangible,

and larger pieces

decided to stay among the stars.

They are a part of everything you see.

That blue jay,

a field of daisies that dance

with the wandering wind.

Burning brightly in constellations

comprised of diamond dust and fire.

A coffee bean,

The granite collected for someone else’s


Saturn’s atmosphere and its many rings.

A lemon juice infused sugar pop

that drips sparingly down a little girl’s elbow.

It leaves her lips sticky as they curve up

into a grin.

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