When the vultures rise
it is a sign
the night is about
to end
I can hear
the heavy wings
flapping in the dark sky
and I can see
their shadow obscure
the green stars
It is a toilsome flight
not immediately breaking free
of the earth
of the shadows in the
elms
as if only airborne
do the feathers
become convinced
they are feathers and not
prickly leaves
When the captors
of my dreams
have flown off
the stars reappear
gray
and the sky green
It is dawn
and I am riding along
the deserted road
of my nostalgia
AVIAN SLEEP