My past and future exist
nowhere other than as birds
who from the fountain fly
away as the water pours
in wings and they are gone.

Where did they go these birds
of existence flying away?
They were mine I thought
captive somewhere inside me
trembling and I thought it breath
exhaling memories, breathing
in all that I wanted to be –
yet they fly away from this sacred
moment as currents of air
ruffling the overarching leaves.

Portland, Oregon – August 15, 2016

In memory of my father who passed away on this date in 1994.