there was a sound
gone past me, overhead
a remote rumble
of jets passing by the sun
but there was only the sound
the flack of hidden helicopters
(there was a sound
gone before me in the sky of trees
a curved phrase of birdflight wings
and there was as well
a rope drawn in silver threads
a chain of song
breaking here or there
for green breathings of silence)
Cari
Copyright © 2001 Cari