#22 Things That Aren’t as Though They Were

Deep into the canyon, the sun drove its fading light

Between the gathered concrete walls it reached, like some child stretching behind the sofa to get a long-loved toy that has slipped just too far. An inch just too far…


She nestled in the murky dawn,


The night had curtained joy so long,


The cold wind, merciless,


The stars, her only warmth,



Frigid fingers ‘round her nest,


The air, itself, held bite,


Many passed her desperate state,

Not noticing.

No comfort came.

But dimly breathed the sun…


Despite the darkness all around

She knew that night was nearly done.


Repelling thoughts of pointlessness, she stirred,

Lifting notes to meet the dawning hope,

There amidst the frigid winter deep,

Her bare-remembered melody of spring.


Calling things that aren’t, as though they were.

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