Thursday, August 12, 2010


Above flowing dark waters
Past the last minutes of sun’s light
The geese hold a ribbon of sound
That takes me with them into evening sky

In their fold of brotherhood
Strapped to invisible currents
Lost in the last pointed star’s reach
Knowing direction by unwritten instinct

They follow ancient echoes
In the fantasy of their call
Shredding sound like guileless music
Into the long low growl of something wild

Written on vellum from broken trees
The sound strips my tongue of its hold on earth
And slings the arch of my inevitable smile
Over the wild open jasmine of time itself

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