7/21/2013

Bird of Mourning

It could not have come
at a better time, 
tiny, silver trinkets of sound
sewn to wind-

the last bird singing.  

The listening mind 
goes numb, a body
frozen in a blizzard.  

You heard the same
song briefly, memorizing
its delicate rhythm 

as if we would never 
hear its voice again.

No comments: