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Blacktop Wilderness
after the image “Cold Sun” by Jeanne Wilkinson
Winter winds wail
through hollowed wasteland.
In cloud-cloaked sunlight
weakened wonder
wilts and withers.
Squint through the blistering white
— the hiss of light.
Choke on the cruelty
of air so chilled.
Nowhere to weep
or weave a new story.
But then a rustle
in the needle-covered branches.
A sparrow’s warble
flutter of feathers
a tiny heart taps its beat.
The boughs part for an exit.
Bursts and bounds. Flight
toward the tower. Seeking
a home for neighboring nests.
This whisper reverberates,
warms each new breath.
