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.