Phil John Kneis



in winter's longing for spring
- or is that an imagined thing?
doth winter care just for himself? -
a naked tree
on the frozen prairie
is inhabited here
by a feathered being
a dark bird perched
on a natural structure
looking unnatural in its fractal shape
below, the river flows
muttering only to himself
and to the spirits of the dead he carries
but the river ain't constant
he's made anew
with each passing drop
of water
of blood
each grain of sand -
once a creek
now grown up
and constantly wounded -
cold are the bird's knees
yet he won't move
he's seen it all
where else to fly to?
where else to die
but here?

August 3rd 2008, P#400 (22.1.33)

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