Heavy clouds sweep in from the south
in wretched tattered formation;
The sun skims their curly heads
With soft pink touches.
Way above, vapor trails crisscross the sky
And below, birds tweet and fleet about
Looking my way from time to time.
Can they hear my heartbeat
Are there sound ripples crashing into trees
And scattering in the morning light?
Do sparrows feel the ridges
Of the unspoken escape
In frosted white sighs?
Syncopated hypnotic calls
of two warblers smooth
The sharp edges of a tear.