Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Five Ways of Looking at a Peregrine


In a forest of leafless ash,

all that stirs

is the wind and a peregrine.


The constellation that shimmered

when you were born

is as irretrievable as the peregrine's innocence.


The peregrine's grace

is a measure of feathers

in a minor key.


Two lovers are more than the sum of themselves.

They promise to honor the unknown they'll engender

as they honor the peregrine roosting in the shadows.


I do not know what to heed:

the hunger for silence,

the satiety of stillness,

or the merciful transience

of the peregrine.

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