when i was in the shop the egrets were flying over. when i was getting milk, scanning the day’s bread delivery, greeting the cashier, the egrets were flying over – hundreds of wings whispering the grey sky i could not see. when i was unfolding my bag, packing my groceries, entering my pin, the egrets…
of course they would come holding bits of night in dark shadows under white wings that whisper low along the road sighing across the rooftops. they will find the moon before it sets. beyond the hilled horizon where it has already plunged orange and silent behind the trees, they will find the moon beyond these…
life does not live here it is only measured with hands that mark the seconds in silence machines that weigh the beating heart. life cannot live here. life lives deep in veins pounding red with tides and memory rank with sacred purpose. life lives on egret wings lifting light to the sky in the darkening…