Lapwings count moments
circling dead leaves.
Sky is amber with autumn.
As day fades light is cold & clear.
Your steps sound close at dusk,
moving with bird songs, winging.
I wait your soft voice in the night.
It sparkles with starlight, falling.
After sunset sky is a velvet cloak.
Sounds dominate where darkness reigns:
a rustle of dried grass, the stirring of leaves
with night's cold breeze...
I find you waiting in a field of stars.
With wind-rush'd wings we move together.
Our lives are border'd with flight.
(Copyright 11/21/05)
Hugh Cobb
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flight-3/
