Читать книгу Blood Orbits - Ger Killeen - Страница 7

The Abyss of the Birds

The hours flashed, flicked

their crests; I broke

through the scenery

to the eternal half-

smile of hooks:

I was a man

like a tree, walking.

Sparrows came in gusts,

cranes came, and hawks.

I held their cries; there was

a sound of leaves; I held them,

gave them back as smoke.