The Last Word On The Last Bird

By Lynn White

It’s almost done.
We’re close to the end
the too wet
too dry
too bright
too hot
bitter
empty end
If I could turn back time
I’d see flocks of birds
flying into the sunset
migrating
as they did for millennia.
I’d see the too loud gulls
swooping and diving
in raucous frenzy
to fill the sea and the sky.

Now there’s just one.

I’ve nothing more
to say.

––––––––––
“I write to let the words escape.” – the writer

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