A Morphology
       

The wind taught me that I am not a hawk
                    the oak that I am not a squirrel scurries
              circles up a tree

                                          flames too
spiral crunk-bark toward the
                                    crown of smoke thick
                    where the sun drowns

                                          dark-veiled I am
not the wind the hawk I think
                                    blames me for this

                    is the fault of the mind the wind
                                    moves the smoke yet drives the fire
the moral of which is ash is

                                    change in form aims to be always
                    never what it was its kind the same

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Copyright © 2019 Joshua McKinney All rights reserved
from Small Sillion
Parlor Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission