Five Steps to Thursday
“In denial, we raged against imagined masters pulling dark strings.”
How many feathers will fall before the bird follows?
I squint and face the morning’s reckoning.
“His wife had gone; he had stayed, neither by choice.”
“In denial, we raged against imagined masters pulling dark strings.”
The last of his kind. A gift to the future.
We live, through that which we leave behind.