On the Wing Again
Birds poured through the wound
In the overcast as it stretched and tore.
Bursts of wing and cacophony
Lighting the backdrop.
We are too bright for this place.
Down below, it's dawning on someone.
The wait was so long, they discarded all the clocks.
The blue of the map seeping into the ground.
Are we parting the scene?
There are folds in the dirt to drift along.