Friday, August 17, 2012

The Dark Swirl

Nested deep in gray wood
Cloaked by swaying trees
The black feathers carried
Across the straw by a dark wind
Swirling in three patterns
Chewing the topsoil
And spitting out husks
The aging structure did not resist
The approaching arms
Of an old man
Who died standing
And a dead man
Who continues walking

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