The sky lies transparent to the sun,
ozone refracting light to blue, scattered
so it’s all that’s seen. Hovering, a bird,
black, screeches in the sky, looking down,
the ground a haven harboring food, birth,
death. She flies, finding updrafts, currents of air,
used to keep her place, a bent cross pinned in the sky.
Then up, aloft, away from sight, deciding now
against the ground, leaving the sky
empty of sight, break, or sound.

Originally published at http://troycamplinpoetry.blogspot.com.




An Anthology of Metamodern Poetry by Troy Camplin

Recommended from Medium

Keeping on Keeping

Sincerely, The People Pleaser

Live Life

Ordinary Conversations

The Confession

writing, life lessons, life, poetry on medium, poetry

Amy’s House

Just For You, Dear Woman.

Was Shylock to be Ostracized…..

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Troy Camplin

Troy Camplin

I am the author of “Diaphysics” and the novel “Hear the Screams of the Butterfly.” I am a consultant, poet, playwright, novelist, and interdisciplinary scholar.

More from Medium

They’ve Got the Power: Power Dynamics in Jean Toomer’s “A Blood Burning Moon”

For the Love of Diamonds

Memoir of a Murderer

March Is A Shy Smile