blades of truth beneath
feet as bare as birth
inhale the soulful wind of
illusions of hope
and step
foot to ground
sigh at the flock, as
it has returned from
redundant seasons
i had hoped that
birds would not
return, as
their unison reminded
me of normalcy
and i am still standing
enclaves of shimmering
possibility become matte
in the light of
what has become
the spiral we call
life