it cries
awakes those comfortable, slumbering souls
I watch from my bed of expectations
half awaiting
for a moment I'm distracted
elsewhere
on the plumage of this lost aviator
If the goose cannot find its way
what hope have I?
I'm gone, intoxicated
the bird has evidently found a flight path
for the sky is rendered silent
and I tread a mute route, once more
No comments:
Post a Comment