by Diane Fahey
Nightingale calls to
robin calls to
lark…
Our voices throb
in this airless
dusk,
defy our fear of being
trapped here
forever.
Sunlight slants in:
wicker bars
stripe us,
we sing our inexhaustible
hymn, open wings to
distant warmth.
From:
The Sixth Swan
Last updated January 14, 2019