RSS 2.0 FeedOn a Wire
Under their wings is white:
early in the morning, early
in autumn, birds, perched on lines
give new meaning to the words
‘the birds alight.’ Birds in search
of one last brightness, one last
dream of summer flight, gleam.
Spied from below, the underside
of wings is white, flares like the last
flash of another summer, undone
by autumn’s shortened light.
Ron. Lavalette coordinates services to psychiatrically disabled adults in the very northeastern corner of Vermont, land of the fur-bearing lake trout and the bi-lingual stop sign, barely a snowball's throw from the Canadian border. He's been published fairly widely both in print and online. A reasonable sample of his published work can be found at http://eggsovertokyo.blogspot.com/. Ron. regularly blogs at Scrambled, Not Fried (http://rlavalette.wordpress.com/)