two vultures cross bright morning sky
contend with a strong southerly wind
that takes one east too low to soar
and the other riding high to the west
Two vultures -a mating pair it seems-
flew close, wing tips nearly touched
until the lift of wind and gust
drove them apart, now hungers
must find them in their separate ways.
Two vultures driven here and thus
do not reconnect as I spy the breakup
of clouds and hatted heads,
of child's balloons and the dreams they held
and the touch of hungers on the wing
such is the work of wind and sun.
As I reach for the cover of my coat to clasp
keep the warmth of my chest, lest it too,
struggled in gusts and hunger, shall be
the untouched wing.
No comments:
Post a Comment