The Cranes

We’ve met, by chance, some friends,

an elderly couple, he smiling,

she wide-eyed with dementia,

strolling the path through wood

and meadow. They cry, Look!

The Cranes, overhead!

Fifty or a hundred commas

gather in the sky as if

they do not know to what sentence

they currently belong . . .

–excerpt from “The Cranes” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag Press, 2014). First published in Soundings East.

 

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