small flights

with remnants behind

what did you think this was then
with what slouches now to crest
the hill beneath a tired sun? birds
know it, fly off & i watch, heavy
with keeping watch & missing
the attention of first thoughts
how we would circle them
feathered & breathless
unknowing which of us
flapped whose wing

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

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