on hearing the last cuckoo to sing .. .
. .
. .
in the half light
of your incomplete stillness
there is a silence
i cannot quite discern
it distills upon us like a dew
of muffled noise
there are waves of darkness
i imagine armies gathering
to lay their weapons down
sounds and whispers
and a cuckoo
. .
. .
©edenbraytoday18.03.2024


