The  bird’s reflection
flickers in the waning light
an instant before it crashes
into the window
and dies.

Are her tears for the bird
lying on the cold ground below,

or for the sparrow of her heart,

the one who bolts
along the highway,
demons  on board,
 hurtling, careening,

banging her head 
on bridges 
and stanchions,

never slowing down

for love or money
but always managing
to kick up a dust storm
and come to a stop
just before the  mortal blow?

So far.

The winter sun

retreats on crutches,
toward the western sky,
taking tears with it,
bouncing them off the glass window
with the soft rushing clouds,

an instant before
their reflection

fades and dies.
©2012 WabiSabi
Shared with Poets United