Title
Evening Flight
Document Type
Article
Poem
He’s on the beach
each evening, motionless
among the feeding birds
until their nervous flutter
fades and they fold
their curved white wings,
peck the sand
as if he isn’t there;
and he feels then as if he isn’t,
as if being big and wingless
doesn’t matter anymore,
not to him, not to them,
at least till someone
in the distance calls his name
and they shiver up around him,
storm the sky like snow gone crazy
and he feels for a flash
he could almost be lifted away.
COinS
