365 Poems: November 29th, 2014

Where the Sparrows Land

My city stands

on the line between two worlds.

Behind me,

the jet planes slowly fall

from their destinations far away,

forgetting me in my small green squares

and in front of me,

a different world lies

where the high flyers lose their ascent

and instead

the sky is filled with sparrows.

Down here,

we see no city blocks.

The trees are full

and twisted up in knots.

The hills stretch down to rippled mirrors

and cast shadows on the sky.

Some houses are long

and some houses are short,

but none stand taller than where my eyes can see

because here,

the horizon line is not a challenge

and the silent open air

is not an invitation.

Now I stand in a Christmas tree farm

and watch the sparrows as they fly away.

Part of me says I don’t belong here.

The other wonders why I’d ever leave.


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