morning poem, December 16, 2015


White rain falls

The horizon disappears in fog.

Rainslick blackbirds duck their heads

And cling to rainblack branches

Swaying in the wind.


One bird, his colors muted

By the dark afternoon, by the drowning rain

Launches from a twig

and drops like a stone in the heavy air.

He recovers, bouncing as if off of an invisible trampoline

And bouys up and lights in a brittle treetop trident

Shaking droplets all around.


Copyright 2015


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