4/23/18 1:12 AM
the loons and the grebes are late
icy spring delayed
they still fly
eventually
across the border there are lakes
just waiting for birds
and over here
we are stuck watching them leave
I wish I were a loon
with spread wings
natural red eyes
and a haunting call
and worth less than a dollar
how fast do you go
when the units aren’t right
how fast can you speed
when my heart beats faster
how do you know when to slow
when there is no destination
and now my speed has rubbed off
onto those who I hold most dear
they fly by me quickly, flatly, losing their touch
there is no skin at twenty above
only a blur
and sometimes a crash
and there is always a cost