All that is now known
To exist
Between night and day
Hangs
In the balance
Delicate
As individual
Shards of broken glass
Like snowflakes falling
Silent
Upon a hushed
Sunday morning sidewalk
But all that now means
Nothing does it
Hark the lover harken
Come listen
To the wind song
Calling
Filled to brimming
With lies and false laughter
Then note a blemish on
Horizon
Wild as tea leaves
Each stirred blindly
Into chilled spring morning
Sunlight golden
Starlings dance another
Perfect murmeration
Then they too are gone