In Progress

Birds leave shadows

on the grass

where a blanket is drawn

 

Close by, clouds skitter

Blacking out

The wings

 

It’s like this

On the ground

Where light and dark intermix

 

A speckled mosaic

Of wondering and cursing

Not sure what it should be

 

What should it be

A shadow, a bird

And must both fly away?

 

2 Responses to “In Progress”

  1. […] Poems especially. The rawness and the sensibility and the unbounded emotion. The images. The detail, the non-detail, the enigma, the obtuse, the possibility of interpretation. Or not. Just let the stanzas wash over you. I like that too. […]

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