By LesleyMay Miller
Blaming the stars
we stand on the edge of a chasm
watching the rocks split.
Those nine men sit unmoving;
they look into an abyss.
Those two girls in pale pink and blue
gaze at dark mountains,
hear the owl’s warning
but do not change their ways.
We stare at the geometric signs,
envy the understanding of every swallow,
starling, swift and skylark.
From the eagle to the wren
they can sense the sun’s rays
we have no such nature detectors.
We hold up hands to feel the untouchable,
we admire the birds, try to sing their songs,
learn they will outlast us.