Enchantress evensong falls upon
wrongheaded flock of birds
That throng of words unheard at
muted midnight
The why, the when, the mid-flight grain sipped
slow into burning gut
Where to put next foot’s step?
Backways blocked where shadows crept
Backwards traipse with thoughts inept and low
Carrion I’ve carried long and slow
If sleep will not come then
surely I must go
josephjameshunter 