April Fools’ Day, 2013
It seems this cold will never end.
Despite the warm sun
My fingers are almost frozen.
Two perpendicular contrails in the sky
Intersect almost exactly where the sun sits.
There are so many lines in this sky.
The roofs, the chimney tops, the antennas, the telephone lines.
Some of them parallel,
Others crossing each other somewhere.
Just like you and me,
And so many names we could write on these lines.
There is a single bird on the telephone line
Above me, it looks small and fragile.
Soon there is another one,
Just like the first one, but not exactly the same.
As I look up again from this page,
They are already gone.