from an evolving collection entitled Sun Lake Moon
Birds on wires watching people.
People in chairs watching birds.
Clouds flowing over birds and people.
Autumn-tinted pine branches sway.
A quiet wind is having its say:
scattering birds and people.
We fly and flee.
Head back to our nests and nooks.
Hunker down for when the season of the sun returns.
We’re all bones and feathers passing through,
but, for some reason, we come to settle on so little
and call it: connection.
(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com