Living poets find words to part veils
that confound and confuse our vision
disturb even the flight of migrating birds.
We are woven together in the ether of life, 
tethered, as the ground flows below and the sky,
luminous in star strewn cold night, churns.

Fire and rain - dire and dread.
Birds forage in brush and brine
for food. Finding none they move on
with loss of lands they had loved.
To where shall we fly to find our way
with fires before and floods behind?

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Portland, Oregon - August 11, 2021