The Knife

On the street
Pages blew from my notebook
Scattering across the road

Poems and pictures

I considered retrieving them
Then
Just let them blow away

And now they
Are all gone

Air

This morning walking
On the road to town
I must have been praying silently

The sound of my prayers
Went into the calls of crows
In brambles, beside the tracks

I heard them calling out
My need, my cry, their desires
All rolling into one sound

In early winter
Through the barren branches