Laughter

.
.
As the crows
And I
Sit atop
My favorite
Thorn tree
Watching the
Light change
The shadows
Dance I
Think of you
And gossip
With my
Shimmering
Friends
They know
You better
Than I am able
To remember
They speak
To me
The language
Of laughter
When the
Wise ones
Fly east
Seeking roost
I remain alone
Among thorns
Comfortable
In forgetfulness
.
.
Bear … 04.22.2015
â“’Bearspawprint2015
.
.