Wednesday, May 14, 2008

watch the skyline

Is there hope?

The ravens chuckle as they leave us,
their feathers glinting of
coal and diamonds.
Ground-locked as we are, we cannot follow.

If not now, then in a dream
or some distant incarnation
we might find so elegant a path, the vague memory
of gravity unable to restrain us.

The wind will speak truth and set
our course, the night sky
our compass.

There is always hope, so long
as we have dreaming.

Rachel Westfall
May 14, 2008

1 comment:

Michelle Johnson said...

Such fantasy lingers within the walls of this poem. Dreamy adventures.