Reed Lowell

Each nightingale is rapturous. Dreaming of Halcyon,
king, and queen to be
fish for their crowns.

on the wind.
A chase erratic.
Sing, writhe, and croon.
The climb

Day breaks
and morning follows.
A reflection
in descent
over placid waters.

That spring
has echoed for too long.
A pursuit
in cacophony
never better than the first.

And the fall will come again
with gale
and rain
and ardor.

But for once,
I wish it wouldn’t.
I wish not to race for a rise
only a moment to be.

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