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Amidst the Birds
Timeless
skin leathered by twice ten thousand suns
insufficient flesh to fill their rags
they stand, arms outstretched
against the sky
towards the sky
in fields and graying city squares
the whirling birds their only companions
We hardly pause to notice them
they fade, depart, return
who knows
what hardness lies inside
yet in a stark sun-blistered noon
or nights when storm or snow
reveals their frames
we discern half hidden their essential form
the cross
that points to dusk and dawn
to earth and heaven
to the human
to the sacred
© Johnmichael Simon
2006
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