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He came from the west
Ebony wings gliding
Upon the Surazon.
A silhouette at noon
In a pale sky above a sapphire sea.
He came from the islands,
Charted mirages,
Vertebrae on the spine of the horizon.
He was weary
And carried the weight of exhaustion
In his feathers.
He stretched his legs,
Groping for a perch on the rolling ship
Oblivious, in his need for rest,
To the noise of engines and smell
Of fuel;
Reassured by the solidity
Beneath his feet.

by Janet Mary Zylstra

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