perched black
the cormorant's outstretched wings dry
over glassine, grey green
a diving birds reflection
and I day dream in the quiet cold
I don't believe all things
are made in heaven
it falls on me like a tall tale
and my foot falls heavy
on the trussed up
slippery metal
rusted yet not worn
it is my bridge
my city
But does she belong to the cormorants
the city crows
the assimilated Canada goose, Why should they leave
Is it God in this city
Or is Portland's evolved breath nurturing my city's heart
beat
My love swells for the cracks in the street
as she is me
and my love for her is always new
