Perched on the highest branch of a juniper
a raven trembles,
its opened beak a treasure box holding
the remnants of my own invasion—a message lost
to the rolling tide of sound and silence:
a plane passing overhead,
the crunch of gravel beneath my feet;
twin contrails spiraling in the now-empty sky,
dovetailing with my own wish to step back in time,
to hear the song before the bird has learned
the sound its voice will make.
A gypsy at heart, Janet derives much of her inspiration from new places and vistas. The urge to move was less of a problem when she was single, but now that she has a family, she’s looking to settle in northern Colorado and sink her feet into some grass. A few years back a short story of hers received a Million Writers Award, and most recently she won Word Riot’s Flash Fiction Contest. She loves writing poetry when no one’s looking. More of Janet’s poetry can be found at janetfreeman.com.