An avalanche of birds s
                       l
                        i
                         d
                          e
                             d
                              o
                               w
                                n
                                 the bleak and heavy skies.


The frozen silence    S H A T T E R S    with their hungry
                                           piercing cries.


They f
      a
       l
        l
          a wild and drumming storm
                                     on barren trees
                                                     below.


And clothe the icy, lifeless ground
                                     like
                                          dark and restless
                                               snow.


They flutter     lost     and     lonely
                        in this                chill
                                                and
                                            bitter space.


And dimly dream of sometime Spring, her warm and fertile
                                                   face.


They
huddle       weak and weary
                                for a brief illusive rest,


Bereft of all but instinct's call          to go on - - -
                                           in their quest.


With plaintive cries
                      once more
                                 they rise to   cold    and
                     r A g G e D               flight,


To melt into the grey, grim day
                                and
                                    D W I n d le
                                                   out of
                                                    sight.






Copyright © 1992 by Gerry Edwards