Falling

Sparrows gather in the roses,

companionable and comfortable

among thorns and perfume petals.

 

A longhorn beetle sensitively explores

with antenna, legs, and mouth parts,

working its way along a blade of grass.

 

A buzzard floats, wide open

above purple and golden grasses,

certain in the air passing its wings.

 

A lone woman looks out at

distant, dark, silver-edged mountains,

sensing both earth and groundlessness.

 

Each one a snowflake falling –

unique, precious, and free –

gone – gone – gone…

 

Mary Booker 22.07.2023