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	Lingering Blue (Windstorm)
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Dead leaf birds are danglin'
Hanging on a wire
Flying over every snapped tree

The wind brushing through houses and lawns
Running fingers through heartwood
Like that morning after, up on Deyo Hill, the pine
Toppled over the power cables
Or the night that telephone pole gave out on Carpathian

The blue neons of the station shining for decades
Over every face, every blue facet
Rain swallowing up all the charms and dances, swirling down the drain
Playing with the signals in satellite dishes
Like fish in a bowl

Clockwork pieces still boiling in a far off ocean
Passing between the melting and the sinking
And the fleeing

Gulls down south are speaking hymns
Remembering the humming of nights in Port Crane
Diving into some wooded mesh alive with chimes and bells
And phantom feelings

Some square shadow in a round hole

And the snow will come in and make it all
WHITE