what birds remember:

I hope when they take flight 
the birds in the cherry tree 
think of me too 

with their wings made of sunlight 
and snow 
and coal painted fethers 

and the sky falling together 
like broken glass 
and people in love 

with the small things 
carried in careful fingers 
found burried in the sand 

with heartbreak and rain 
that drowns out 
every deep breath 

with the songs sung 
when the moon ducks 
under the horizon 

remeber me too 
among your beautiful things 
climbing up that very tree and hoping to fly