The Cranes

The cranes
 

The cranes know when it is time to fly
facing the mornings rising sun
they abandon there dwellings.

A synchronised fleet

jewelry to the clear open spaces

the softly blown reed flute accompanies there leaving

celestial harmonies flood the ears.

Like iron filings drawn to a magnet

there appearance softens in perspective

into specs against the sea of incoming light. 

Extending my prayer this daybreak

it is I who must remain

to bare witness to this re fluxing exodus

giving testimony to there entente

providing alibis to the earthbound.