Guy Simser

Trilling

Airborne in the hiatus of dawn, a chanter throat reed strong explodes from a flock blowing feathers to song. In awe beaks drop, ears cock, eyes round to the sound as starlight expires.

In the bar between notes, the wanderer whistles under his breath to applaud the mysterious intuition and its god . . .

from a cedar’s
deep interior shade
leaping into light
a bridging squirrel