Wednesday, February 7, 2018

waiting for the sun

the ragged
clouds.
the spit of night ice.
the black lines
drooping
heavy
after the storm
but the black birds
that are still around,
still here
don't think twice.
they sit
in army lines across
the long
stretch of
wire,
beat their wings tight
and wait out the day.
wait for the sun,
as we all
do.

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