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Kenneth Peters

Bird Watching
Kenneth Peters

Slight air ripples still glass
Which framed a once whole face
Now fragmented from surface
To within.
Leaving nothing but a trace
Of a name.

A name neglected,
It no longer holds weight
Beyond phrases and greetings
Given without request.
The whole is tested,
In part,
To confirm its identity.
Who am I?

Fly, bird, Fly!
Only the clouds can keep pace.

I almost didn’t see that bird
Perched to see yet be unseen.
Sadly, the opposite is seen more.
But I cannot fly so high
Elevated above self.
It takes talent to navigate
Grey skies on dark days
And not get stuck in clouds
That held what eventually fell.

Ruffled remiges result in wary flight.
Sharp turns into dangerous updrafts
Plummet perfectly crafted plumage
Into splintered wooden fingers.

At least you tried.
An attempt at an attempt still counts
If viewed from the surface.
Mother would say to watch my tone
How it’s said means more than what is said.

I miss you.
I guess I’ll watch harder next time.



The Ring
Kenneth Peters

Quick breaths, rapid feet,
Time runs less and less.
Catch it before you're caught.

Lost something valuable; valuable at least to me.

The least of these holds the greatest punch.
First the ribs, then the head. Starry eyed
Lovers flash to and fro like lightning to sky.
One strikes. One receives. Both want, 
But neither give.

The break rings harsh.

Step and blow stop still.
The moment lies ahead,
But I bleed more than you.



The Lamp
Kenneth Peters

Lampstands stand strict and stern,
Close enough, but far enough
To light the none and the nothing.

Yet absence remains
A sulking sliver saving
Something, behind shade
Too dark to determine.

Lamps light the well and the known
Leaving darkness darker than before.
The enlightened seek a greater why.