CROSSING

 

The morning after my death,
day comes up as usual,
hungry flowers gasp open

to the sun, cardinals rehearse
the clever songs of centuries past,
you read this and turn the page

with a little shrug (I see the birds' 
red bleed into the dirt, light hushes 
the sky like wind on a puddle)

James Owens

 owens017@ua.edu