Alphabet
ZG Tomaszewski
Grandma’s feeding ravens again.
Tools are missing from the barn.
One day on a walk I overheard
the birds chatting:
Let’s make of our language
a window
and through the window
a world . . .
feeling the small heat of life
lifting from the branch in fluted sparks
a couple of Shakespearean jesters laughing
as grandpa searches
for the hammer
wanting to nail the shadows down.