Saturday, August 9, 2008



the whirl of birds
in formation,
a stop-motion
camera captured cloud,
an arrhythmia of wings
in a dusky sky

palpable providence
of a sort

like gleening a glimpse
of God
as night comes into focus

more affirmation than answer

that speaks,
'a part of everything, apart from nothing'

and so,
with the avian dance
now done with the darkness,
an ornament of birds safely roosts
until twilight dawning
stirs a song,
a whistle on the wind,
a melody to move
through days,
night after night

until morning comes again,
like resurrection

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