a flock of birds wing past my window

as if they were chased by a huge predator

whose shadow looks like the rising of a storm

on a desert of bones and sand


if I could run as fast as those birds

could fly I'd be so fast that I'd meet them

wherever it was that they landed

but without a bag of crumbs to greet them






Content (c) 2008-2015 Philip Milito.