The hills have buried the day
in this nondescript dawn. Stillness muffles
even the language of sparrows in the hedge.
The paving stones are damp with dew,
and ivy shakes on the wooden fence.
Blackbird, where is your song?
–Excerpt from “Blackbird” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016). First published in Wichita Falls Literary and Arts Review.