HPN

Click Page 23

Poetry of Issue #7        Page 23

Out Here

Trees block horizons
briefly, slowly reveal
a broad expanse,
leaves shed. Sky
broadens. A deeper
blue crushes sun's
last blazing fury.
Vultures soar high
in slow circles,
able to see far
ahead into death,
drift over me.
I flail my arms,
unable to fly.

  Richard Dinges, Jr.