Removed, released, abandoned
falling to the earth, lost in flight
descending, shuddering to
birth. So in death abundance,
new ways to be known, drowned
in ink, enamoured, stories to
be told. Feathered are the minutes
of that final flight, tossed on
breath of angels, drifting out
of sight. Delicate abundance,
whispering to the wind, calling
to the dance of life – so it all

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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