Beyond the river
tall grasses waving in the wind
picked up the shadow of a bird
moving across the vista
I have seen so many times.
I did not see the bird
but tried to find it in the sky
and wondered what I’d see.
The shadow left no trace
upon the grass —
no way for one to know
there’d been a creature in the air
I’ve seen some lives like this:
leaving nothing when they’re gone —
as if they’d never been.
And I am forced to wonder
if the marks I’ve made on earth
have been like shadows passing by.