Wayne Ray

At the roof line blue sky windows reveal wishes only.

Another cold day snow along the fence escapes in the wind.

The last six months should be the fastest. It is still winter.

Traveling through the long winter nights at the speed of dark.

Criticisms my mother brings up, February thaw.

Before the eggs hatch two Geese walking nearby, eating dead grass.

Migration shadows as I stand staring from my window.

After the search not even a sound, outside a hawk.