there is nothing more melancholy than a black bird wheeling against a cigarette ash sky. it dives to the rows of corn field stubs, skimming the surface, before scaling an invisble vertical wall. it wheels again and the cycle begins over.

i feel like a dandelion seed caught up in the winds of life. you caught me in your hands for a second and protected me, before choosing another, more dear object to hold close.

maybe someday i'll wake and find a different story on my path