swooping death flies off with its prey
silently but for the rustle of wings —
a feather drifts down from the empty sky
for left-behind hearts to remember by
—Terri Guillemets
swooping death flies off with its prey
silently but for the rustle of wings —
a feather drifts down from the empty sky
for left-behind hearts to remember by
—Terri Guillemets