counting pebble skies


 
thirty-eight birds on a wire.
clear bright spotless blue otherwise.
shadow limb roosted leaves unmoved
in summer middle-day heat.   silent green.
becalmed.

slumbered earthen white truck beneath
claws itself awake, clears its’ throat.
unexpected growl.   startled all
into flight.

feathers leap into elliptic waves all
in less space than one random thought.
become a broken road round river
overhead.

      ***

oddly enough, fifty-three return.

one is white.

 
 
 
 
 
prompt:   write a poem about something that takes place in a near instant (say five seconds or less), and keep your observations attentively direct without consideration toward meanings.

and oddly, birds on my mind.   so this.
 
 
 
 
 

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