Two Poems

A flock of white birds

circle round and round

flying far, drawing near

dancing a mysterious dance

a magic ritual

over the brown green mountains

beneath blue gray clouds

as I sit quietly

amidst a noisy crowd

at Mines View Park

one summer dusk.

 

 

The mountains,

Blue, gray, green, and brown

sit oblivious, staring

at the gushing, rushing crowd

taking pictures, frenzied talking

of dads, moms, kids, aunts, uncles, friends

as evening descends

and still I sit

trying to etch this moment

on my mind

as people come and go.

 

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