I like the way the stars seem to come out one at a time. Then all at once.
The feeling of being outside looking in.
Geese in flight, steady like a night train overhead.
Two owls calling out to each-other from the tree tops.
Silhouetted against the fading light.
The wind rustling the leaves that have not yet fallen.
Four walls make it hard to think, hard to dream.
Wings cut the air, sounding out like the hinges of a wooden window frame.
Opening and closing with effort, warped from the wet of seasons.
Open and close open and close.
Water trickles, quietly and just out of sight.
From somewhere to who knows where, in the end.
© Elizabeth McLaughlin