The sun sets on the tracks turning them into straight
lines of salmon steel reflecting the day’s end.
We pause at that inverted “v” where perspective
tricks us into thinking we’ve come such a very long way.
A tropical plant living lushly with care and
attention, gravitates toward the light of the
window and is contained by a cold, hard pane
of cloudy, obscure glass.
I heard the sound before I saw him.
The distant cry of a solitary crow
soaring in cold currents.
“Here I am, over here”, he seemed to say.
“I see you”, I whispered in the wind.