Magnetic Wings

This is a sub-tropical country on the cusp of Asia

Where vegetation reaches thirstily into empty skies

For a drop swallowed by the last bird of prey

Its majestic wings drawn South by the pull of an internal

Compass.

Waves crash, caught in the same systematic rhythm.

Nature’s drum, a magnetic beating

Of wide weightless wings

Yet they are the sum of all strength and force

The seedlings from the Earth.

The hushing wind whispers secrets and desperate truths to listeners

through clusters of

leaves.

But not everyone hears its magnetic wings.