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.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.