camouflaged by clouds,
tips of their wings
fanned like fingers,
they smooth distorted clouds
to a silken, translucent texture,
hazing the bright blue ceiling,
whimsically tickling heaven’s brow
while emitting a clarion call
as divine conversation,
a syllable or two back and forth
in leisurely fashion
as if time did not exist
although the sun was low,
settling in the west
and they had fallen
into the shade
while endearing the moon.
Michael Keshigian has been published in the Sierra Nevada Review, Oyez Review, Chiron Review, California Quarterly, and Edison Literary Review among many others. He is the author of 14 poetry collections with 7 Pushcart Prize and 3 Best Of The Net nominations.
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