deep drifts
everywhere we look
this morning
we fasten a poppy
to the snowman's hat
hollow-boned
blankets of fog
subdue these woodlands
the hush
broken now and then
by invisible chickadees
a ballet
of swans glides between
memories . . .
I am earthbound now,
but these wings still fit
more than half
of the world's bird species
have been lost
how will children learn to sing
when their feathers are gone
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