This week I am trying something a little different, dear readers. A longer piece, its individual sections will stretch over several days. And while its full impact may not be felt until reading the poem as a whole, I hope each part will stand alone.

***

At Ankenny Wildlife Refuge

1

What foggy dreams of dying

encompassed me,

like cold ghosts flying

caressed me

until beneath blue canopy

my steady footfalls

jarred out of me

their wailing calls.

Buzzing air, scent of green

walking free

seeking refuge

at Ankenny.