Sunday, March 27, 2011

A Bell Tower Speaks

Sky interrupted
birds fly from tiny chipped spaces
hollow bones turn flute
notes high and breathy
below the dirty snow melts
into dirtier puddles
a small boy jumps –

his red rubber boots
distort reflections
birds turn pinwheels

on the street corners
familiar curbs reveal their crumble
as winter erodes into liquid spring
a stranger smiles at nothing in particular
she grins too, orange coat open
as if to welcome anything other
than last year’s white

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