{we the people}

no words will rise today as blackbirds
wintering
soft gray the sky
void of cadence and cusp
soft gray this morning
a chance of rain
no song, no rhyme
as grace laps at shores
hearts folded into
our ancestors blue
with
youth
and yesterday...
sunlight has gathered her skirts
taking to fields distant
in search of silence, truth & pages
felted with possibility
as shining sorrow swells--bursting
under one sky
this morning ...
where no blackbirds rise