Matthew Thomas Donovan


Osprey Meadows


Two notes were caught in the breeze,
Their paper wings spread as they
Dragged shadows over grass.
The flight of words
In light of youth,
Whipped by sudden gusts of fate or chance,
Fled the cusp of afternoon as
The day bell rang.
Four legs pounced to meet the call
And left the birds in uncertain grace.
The pointed faces of the notes
were delivered by strange winds
in the care of providence,
with faith.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2014
Edited: Sunday, April 20, 2014
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