by EDWARD WACHTMAN
All seeing eye on the dusk-settling shore
Perched soundless and sentry-like
Night black plumage against the dying sun
Hushed and knowing witness to that fiery god’s demise.
Ubiquitous bird…found in pies and the dead of night
One or thirteen…What does it matter?
There is strength in solitude and knowledge in numbers
How many are you?
Trickster and transformer
Bearing the celestial gifts to lighten our way
Prometheus in a rented tuxedo
This heaven’s clown.
Tears and laughter…the first smile at the foot of creation
Left behind in our assigned ascent
Primitive reminder of pure, playful passion
And relinquished pleasures for order’s sake.