Preludium: as gaps fulfill
their color...
may we be privy
to dream.
From a cornered
eye, freed from
its perfect cut...
true to life, yet not.
A sharp right into
blue.
Its sky slid the
silent take of a red
tail hawk...caught
to the gravity of a limp bird, shrunk by shock.
I sat by, the bird's feathers fell
in countered curls and spins.
Amidst parkland, near a
pitcher's mound...snow
traced its fall the night prior.
The wind blew, and I
swear...snowflakes coupled
with those falling feathers.
What's out of sight is always
gentle--what sees is carried
away.