Smithereens Press Chapbooks SP8- Dordéan, do Chroí - A Hummingbird, your Heart | Page 21

Telephone Wire

Poles punctuate the road –
dead trees, stripped bare
and pushed back into the soil,
they grip taut lines, new horizons
that hover over our heads.
They stand – mute as roots –
as wind plucks the wires
of this lonely lyre.
At sunset, starlings gather here
and chatter condolences
to these trees, whose lost limbs
will hold nests of new life
never again.

13