Congregation
The warble,
round like the earth and its sky,
land colors
of flour-
soft feathers, sits with its peers.
The blue hills,
a sea-tinted
mountainous shape against Spring's
sun-lit edge
is a harbor
for the winged creatures, amongst
a budding
tree, windy
caress of grass, the sandy
dirt of foot-
prints. A stream
gushes downwards, its silver drops
crest like waves,
the multi-
tinctures of the stones under
the silken
glassiness
are a congregation. The bird
flies away.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2020
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