Saturday, March 12, 2011

The Flock of Arnold Freund


A churning flock of sandpipers,
Turns left, flying away in white,
Shapes pulsate, morphing into black
Each time the flock turns right.

They animate the skies above,
Whidbey shores like a strobe light…
Arnie, this was your memory,
Recalled by me, tonight.

I will share this with your children
An Island vision from your sight…
Hence every time the birds return
You will be retrieved from the night.

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