The Darkness


I speak of darkness as no man should.
I follow its path across the sky,
As I watch a bird in flight.

I can tell you where it nests,
The common beast untamed,
Identified by many names.

By its cry I know the feather.
I pass the time by sighting.
I mark its passing with a note,
A line common as any.

It slips by our upturned heads,
Settling on yours or mine,
Our shoulder where it rests.

To this migration I give witness.
We are milestones in its journey,
As it seeks to touch on every perch.

With each visit it sheds a wing,
Leaving down that presses heavy.
Its song, sorrow, drifting on to every shore.
Tomorrow, maybe yours.

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    This Poems Story

    This one is easy enough to decipher. I won't spoil it by explaining it, but you can get the idea. It's like "Hope is a thing with feathers", but not hope.