Tuesday, August 12, 2008


Small black birds
by some faint sign flit from high wires
quick sweep the sun and oh
for less than the flick of an eye
feather-filter light on rampant wings.

Four and twenty black birds
by lines of light suspended:
long photon chorus lines dancing
back and back to first unfiltered moments
luminous with expectation.


Radagast said...

Lovely... nice to see the online poet back.

Inconsequential said...

A moment :)

I love those, the ones that grab you, still your breath and let you go, slightly stunned at being part of the world...

ish said...


Thank you for the visits ,,, putting up with the long intervals between poems.

Yes,the 'magical' moments surround us. I try to miss as few as possible. :-)