Look up—endlessness and open sky
Naked leafless lungs break blue infinity
Ghosts of birds sing springtime memories
Imagine them in the trees, though all around is endings—
Dying leaves, new spiders’ eggs and spider’s dead decay…
Remember that hummingbird released from a spider’s web?
Up from my hand, he raced straight to South America
Look up—wait for one last gust of wind
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
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