COASTING, THE CRYING BIRDS
Michael Dyer
© 2006 

Coasting, the crying birds, and lately, their wings are betraying,
the winds that blow, the sunset’s delaying.

And I mind the cold, but I hold my own, in going.

Leaves bent ‘round, fall, abuse the ground.
Subdued, hints an autumn bound.Come again, subdued, too, 
the thoughts that I am.

And I mind the cold, but I long to hold, you again.

My thoughts streak down,like this mist around me,
stains the closed window panes.

Notions of, past illusions that came,in last before, 
the lights went out.

And you closed the door. Oh, you closed the door.