Lost
without a book
I journey
homeward
nonchalantly
reading the sky
translated into sunset
the poem
of a flock of crows
leaving one tree for another
(very similar)
& then back again
in another
second
raindrops
like sonnets
reciting themselves
over and over
with passion &
great conviction
writing themselves
on my reflection
as the window
holds me captive
& I learn
their literature
the language of
how things are
before books were.
I tell these things
to my self
as I fall asleep…fall asleep…fall asleep.
Dream…dream.
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