What shapes do birds’ flight leave behind?

If I could draw their lines…

What would I see,

On the Page of this Sky?

A music book, could be

When birds fly in echelon…

Someone preparing an instrument

Somewhere not too far from me

It could mean.

And if it were an empty box?

Where echoes can bounce timelessly…

A child shouting in…

And the walls of the music box, repeat!

Nothing is lost, stopped


All in a process,

Learning to exist.

Does smell make a sound?

Echoing in the nose and down to the mouth?

Distracted momentarily by the cooking of an experiment marmalade…


The kitchen echoes smells,

The music box echoes sounds,

The birds’ flight echoes lines… In the sky.

No dismissals,

Just sides to life

We forget at times.

Heart’s Flower 🌸

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