Friday, October 20, 2017


the scream
of a red-tailed hawk
over the wood
where dozers wait—
my silent cry an echo

the giraffe
earns a place
on the Red List—
Gaia’s ghost
haunts my dreams

stacking stones
to build a cairn . . .
Earth’s bones,
I awaken to vertigo

fifty years
from discovery
to extinction—
a Pagan reed-warbler
sings in my heart

4% survived
the Permian extinction,
giving rise
to all that lives . . .
and to my flightless hope

~Ribbons 13:1, Winter 2017

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