Photo Credit: rustyruth1959 Flickr via Compfight cc
Blackbirds
Voices in the tree.
Yellow beaks unseen,
black wings, a gust of wind on your cheek.
Their song is a distraction.
Searching for them, you will not notice
traces of red in the sky.
When the trees close in
and darkness comes,
you will be far gone.
Once more
a blackbird calls.
Then, only silence.
GloPoWriMo Day 6
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