Poem by Lynn Domina
Not one creature gazes out toward me, solitary observer.
Not one creature gazes out toward me, solitary observer.
Wasting days until Dad, accusing me of putting down roots, chased me away.
A scraggly rooster calls my soul from the past.
I tune to the wren and hear a thousand miles in a syllable.
After it exercises its right to swell to a red giant and incinerate the younger earth.