Echo of Wings


in a splash of air
pleasure of her longing echoes
these evergreens deepening shadows
of these fragile snows fall
to their
knees

she is the last singer of new truths
unknown to men
forgotten by gods
and hand in hand
her trees own me between snow
as ash

and I am nothing but a brittle shadow
seen only by
a flight of birds
in the pounding echo
of their
rhythmic
wings


JP Pestana
Echo of Wings
1.31.2020