Moss Crossed Feathered Flights
Scraped off the south-side of Old Tumble Falls
rigid rocks roll helpless down to an empty floor
no more holding roost high amidst cliffs kept
close final rays of her dying sun feathered
below sphagnum moss drenching burnt souls
held fast take more than they ever have gave
Turning with tides and skies to carry over burdened
thoughts of subsequently passing places left behind
sightless eyes downcast shamelessly listen intently
as a lone bluebird warbles a wistful departing song
ruffled hawk feathers float aimlessly in the breeze
and tomorrow's waterfall dreams slip silently away
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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