a lost song…

not one feather
ruffled or out of place
no visible signs of distress
all your colors still bright
as if resting from flight
beside the road
and for one moment
i thought you would fly
but you had lost your song
and so i wonder
my little friend
why you should be here
did your lover break your heart
so badly that it just stopped
were you poisoned
by the promises of friends
thus draining your life spirit
or did you hear the dying cries
of your brothers and sisters
of air and sea
struggling in the gulf
and your heart
just burst with sadness

the wood carver….


his hands bore the scars
of learning his trade
the thick calluses in his palms
were like the rings of a tree
sharing with those who chose to look
his years upon this earth
this piece beneath his blade
was now complete
a sea
where each wave
seemed to move
as eyes scanned the horizon
at a distance
one could see a small
yet distinct
fishing boat
bouncing with expectation
of a bountiful harvest
and sea gulls
cruising through the sky
one would swear
they saw the wings
move from time to time
so precise was his work
but do not look for this place
nor the life he portrayed
for now you will only find
the black death of oil
smeared upon the scene
erasing the history of this place