X

X

Against the sneaking black clouds,
the dancing leaves in the distance,

further beyond a bird, indeterminable,
flies, an honest V in the sky, from

blackness to the white to the open
blue. Then trees obstructed my view,

and the bird was gone. Will I see it
ever again? No. Probably not.

Then I rest my face in my hands,
and cry. And cry. And I cry.