Caprice

 

A strange bird rests on the corner

of my roof.  His shadow angled

at the five minute interval  

between something after and something before.

 

This is my time out

from worrying about the house

and other issues.  The small force of energy         

               I've forgotten to free, animate.

 

The wind knows the bird ( a winged harlequin)

and what I'm talking about -

as it shakes a few twigs in its palm

               tossing them like jacks across the sidewalk.

 

They spill randomly and wait

to be picked up with other whims

before the sun bounces

this day downward; and the sky carries dusk

                heavy  on its shoulders.