W





They say you are
rare —
who isn't?






walking out the
back door
evening all you







in the blossoming apple
tree
of course







you call your name over
and over and over and over
with primitive fluidity






wild wilder wildest
fly like a
moth








grander
than any
of us







who are stuck in place
waiting for more
no more



late may 2011

whippoorwill
bob arnold