Winter Light With Birds

In the morning
what looked like rain
sparkling in the air
was just the light
crinkling
through the little bits of mist
Here and there
As the sun broke
over the southern hills

Now the warm planes of glowing light
Have settled so briefly
Along the tops of the hills to the east
Lingering for a few more moments
in the north
Before fading
into grey.
The air is dimming,
Drained of sparkle.
Quieting.

In between these moments
of shifting light
The winter warmth radiated
from the pure blue
And birds flew
in all their crazy patterns
In, this, the same world
we seem to inhabit
But yet in another perhaps
Entirely.

Those birds,
Ignorant of the thoughts
of all of us
in these strange blocks
of stone and wood.
Not heeding our motions
except in odd moments
of curiosity,
perched on a wire,
Watching.
As when we stop
to hear the sounds
Of what we count
as song.
.
Here we are.
Our lives stretching out
This way and that
through the air.
On the wind
we sniff the fragrance
of one emotion
Or another.

A message across the room
Or across the globe
Thousands of miles
Carried by the light
By the wind
By the air.

Random.
Like the flights of birds.
Finding its mark like
the falcon,
Soaring then plunging down
through the warm
afternoon sun.

 

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