After the snow day
The slow sun rises on a cold day
more gold than summer
though less molten, its hurry
facilitated by the geese
pond bond. Against the clouds
holding storm each goose belly
above me is also gold, less finch
more empire I want to live in
As the day ended, clear, the sun
sizzled orange, through the trees
blackbirds streamed behind
their path nuanced, fine.
Each feather sent its own song
a breeze across a spiderweb,
a breeze on a breeze over leaves
left from daydream.
I stood my heart beating
to match theirs, my arms
awaiting wings.
Mmm
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