Spiral
-------

"I'm cast like ticker tape that floats
down from the fourteenth floor. It does
not hurt to fly," the sparrow gloats.
Yet only months ago, it was

an egg. Its yellow yolk inside
a paper-stone, a drop would crush
its head. In months, its current ride
will spiral into one last rush.


Karen Tellefsen
kat2@mindspring.com

Next poem, Black River .

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