The oak sails before the wind,
going nowhere. Its first autumn leaf
picks the lock on its manacles, escapes:
One more illusion of freedom.
A penitent crow puffs up and shudders,
lifts his wings as the sun rises,
letting light come
into the darkness under his feathers.
©2018 by Don Thompson
Don Thompson has been writing about the San Joaquin Valley for over fifty years, including a dozen or so books and chapbooks. For more info and links to publishers, visit his website at http://www.don-e-thompson.com.