Copperwing I moon as though the fire merely

as though the fire merely forged it into something greater

Those who noticed each other there did not ask why they belonged together

A petal tucked behind her ear

Captain Ives never denied it

though he could not later say why

Copperwing I moon as though the fire merelyCopperwing waits in the ginkgo tree, where morning light drifts like melted gold and evening spills in amber rivers. It is never caught in the glare of day, only glimpsed when the sky softens, when shadows stretch long and the world holds its breath. It flits along branches that hum with old stories, wings stirring the air with a sound like faint bells, like something impossible brushing past. Those who notice it feel a shift in the light, a weight in