Was that you in the woods today
wildly blowing that dry brown leaf
as it desperately clung to its branch?
Did you drop the brown, gray feather
in my path as the geese climbed
hurling themselves at the sun?
I know your spirit flows
through their clean hollow bones.
I know you love the propulsion
and free fall
and wind blast
And I just stood there
in my clogged
and I looked for you
as the cold wind
stung my cheeks.