we stood outside the office
waiting
him with head bowed
over smartphone
me craning my head back
he glanced over and saw me
looked quickly
in the direction of my gaze
and seeing nothing
asked what it was
i pointed
“there are buds on that tree”
he looked again
said “oh”
then chuckled
and returned his eyes
to the comforting glow
of the portable hearth
one finger swiping madly
over its fiery glass
a crow glided in
landed on the topmost branch
steadied himself
and folded his wings
a swaying silhouette
against yellow dawn
i saw that too
Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi autobiographical, confessional free verse. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, The Rye Whiskey Review, Cajun Mutt Press and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.
That's how it is...............I said to one of our boys the other day, "look at the colour of those flowers" He '15' answered , " I suppose we'll notice things like that when we get older?" I said, "I suppose so".
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