J. Sackett, Jr.
Rebirthing

A bird swoops sideways, no
song, only the confidence exerted
from his wings. Perching atop
a lamppost, aging orange
like a retiring sun, he burns
his twiggy legs listening
for his reciprocated dreams.
The cobalt mountains, ghostly,
are ringed by a soft white
stripe. In morning, the light
turns into the creamy peach
of navel. Night departs
with the cockroach's screech.
Cacti flex green, spit-shine
their needles. Introduction of dawn;
wind whipping in saffron, the earth-
a burnt tangerine, is dusted clean.

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