Map

Map
In the last of the day’s light
a small brown bird sings
furrows his fine feathers
gathers, and labors.
The same exchange every day.


The dim beams enter
as a welcoming,
dust floats down
settling on these papers
that are strewn about
obsessively riffled.
I am desperate for cognition.
I trace the dark borderlines
of the map you are moving in
an abstract space that consoles
as we navigate this uncharted territory.


Outside the panes of my window
pink, vibrancy
fire burns in the sky
dwindling like fleeting embers
over naked trees, and
silent smoke stacks.


Inhale, deeply
the cold air inhabits my lungs
takes residence
a reminder of the season’s change.
It hangs so silently on each trembling leaf
it is but a moment, until
their journey begins
I can hear it, on the wind
burning in my lungs
grasping me inward,
enveloping.


As the sun subsides into the earth
the days grow shorter, and
the maps become smaller
Guiding me closer to wherever you are.
– R. Grzesik, 2013

Image: Collage City

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