Cardinal
Question: what is air if not
the means by which we
see and feel? Sound creates only
itself, another version of the original
sense. I move from shadows to a deeper
darkness, hoping to find that point where absence
ends. But there is no end, only
continuation, a cry for those
who offer their hands in ambiguity. Sometimes
a cardinal’s call fills our
morning with questions. So
little of all we touch
is felt. We are the air. The air is.
Another poem from the 80s. I was obsessed with birds even back then…
O at the Edges 
Beautiful poem and picture! Thank you for sharing them!
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I’m so pleased it resonated with you. The photo is from morguefile.com.
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Thank you! It is good to know!
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And questions, always the questions…..
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More and more!
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