“15 birds” (poem)

From 2006, standing in a field, watching, wishing on wings. | (c) FW Rabey

15 birds


a desire of 15 birds

counted, echoing a point

headed back to

haunting dusks

below, a bulge

of standing



turn to follow, into

craving, crane

to fly off

colder feet, toes rooted deeply

into earth, lift a hand

to wave a chill

away, a hand


a wave, it

licks its fingers, washing over

pulled by moons, a wave

of hands

of disappointment

flapping, echoing



withdraw the hand,

a tide gone out, an empty

15 tracks

of air.

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