WintersWintersWinters
A common scene, Canadian geese necking south, arrowing against the wind. Every winter it happens but this winter I see one, the leader, produce a rolling fold in his wings, and he’s slipped to the tail of the group.
Soon enough we took the sky, we built planes, and their shadows swallowed birds, whose shadows crossed fences and rested in the black, broken feathers of trees, their wise eyes staring.
in Open on 8/23/09
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