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Michael Stone




Booms and Birds

On a winter afternoon,
I watched the window's
green painted grilles
divide the dull grey sky
into rectangles and squares
and irregular shapes
with no geometrist's name.

Six birds in formation
swoop down, swerve,
and arrow across
sky's grey scrim.

A sudden thundering -
plane, cannon, bomb?
In this land, who knows which?



Contributor's Note