The first white ibis are migrating,
leaving for I know not where -
tiny distant chips of pearl
glinting between clouds and sun,
they glimpse a window opening
forever in the blue beyond.
How do they reach such heights in air?
It takes more than strong wings to dare -
I heard them honk farewell
along the river brink, until next year.
I watch the specks erase
in the immensity of azure blaze,
swallowed by the light, that omnivore,
without the slightest trace.
My window is a world: I travel too,
through sky-blue cyberspace...
My window is a world
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106022300350
Свидетельство о публикации №106022300350
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