The top of my world shimmers with danger
as three black shadows cross the blue-gray
surface of all that I know. We are warned
about the long-beaks, the way they scoop
our brothers and sisters from our ranks.
The elders call them Death From Above.
Yet still I have the desire, late in the day,
to start from the bottom silt, swim upwards
with all my might, and break thru the plane
into the vast unknowing, see for myself all
that the Great One has created and placed,
like a cruel joke, just outside of my reach.

Paul Scot August

Published in Bending Light Into Verse II by Jennifer Tomaloff


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