Sometimes There Are No Words
The cardinal rises upOut of the pine and into the black
Backwash of rain
And rises up is not quite right,
Not even close to what he does
As he leaps breast-first
Into the heavy falling sky
And is somehow lifted up
In the delicate dust of snow,
How it is his body reaches
And opens like a flower would
If petals were wings
As this poem would
If words were birds.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2010-12-19 at 15:01
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