This raider of hope
Small Feathers
The small feathers tell the story. Scattered on
the lawn, something dissembled that will never
know the sky until the wind claims what is left.
Who knows what it was, this raider of hope, marauder
of provisions that press life forward through summers
and winters of its kind, that took the nestling as it did.
This is all that is left: these photographs, these thin lines,
these brief sentiments in a ruthlessly burgeoning world.
Look for me then, in time, among the small torn feathers.
the lawn, something dissembled that will never
know the sky until the wind claims what is left.
Who knows what it was, this raider of hope, marauder
of provisions that press life forward through summers
and winters of its kind, that took the nestling as it did.
This is all that is left: these photographs, these thin lines,
these brief sentiments in a ruthlessly burgeoning world.
Look for me then, in time, among the small torn feathers.
Joseph Gallo
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012
post-time 12:30 PM
1 Comments:
Animals are passing from our lives.
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