Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration. - Carl Sandburg
This is beautiful.Remove the penultimate line and you have alot more impact...A small bundle of featherslies still and unmovingon the wooden deck.Her heart breaks at the sight.Something always gets in the wayof those who only wish to fly.
Thank you AnonI do believe you are correct!Thanks for reading and commenting here, much appreciated.Cheers!Deb
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