The Only Birds That Never Sleep
Silver'd whisps,
diaphanous, floating 'neath
the ether, flying high like
prophecy or prayer.
Black forbidding masses
rumbling out their message,
jagged bolts of lightning
rend the air.
Innocuous or deadly,
omens to discerning eyes,
it would behoove us all
to heed the skies.
Note: title courtesy of Victor Hugo
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012
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