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Danielle Jun 2018
Ravens dance upon highwires.
Flashing pinwheels spinning in their beaks.
The merry-go-round grinds,
Its rusted gears, squealing into the wind.
Book pages whirl and fly off into the sky.
The fox’s cry to the butterfly
Went unheard in this whitewashed night.
Probably going to end up re-writing this for a fourth time, but for now it's good enough to post on here and see what kind of feed back I get for it.
joyce knee Jun 2014
I made 1000 pinwheels
instead of cranes
They were beacons And
You lined your front yard  with them.
A dizzying kaleidoscope
lighting up your porch
So I would know when
I arrived back to you,

— The End —