Wednesday, July 19, 2017


Wings that never failed now crumble to dust
on a window sill.

A moth that once fluttered in the moonlight
has descended into the dark.

Particles of the past hover invisibly all around us.
Black holes erase memory and time.

The horizon is altered.
Green mountains bloom on an ancient burial ground.

Wishes and prayers float on a cloud high above us.
Birds make nests. We make do.