Crossings
I look up, watch the V cross the sky,
the black and white of their heads, arrows
pointing towards what’s next,
getting closer, then disappearing
into a scrawl, an ache,
honking with purpose,
like they know,
like any of us know.
I look up, watch the V cross the sky,
the black and white of their heads, arrows
pointing towards what’s next,
getting closer, then disappearing
into a scrawl, an ache,
honking with purpose,
like they know,
like any of us know.
Writer, Leader, Parent, Nature Lover. wrenjones.ca