exhausted flying at sunset a bird lost - a recovery haiku a bird would fly home at sunset even if it exhausted. its winter here in melbourne. the branches are exposing their vulnerable joints. they look bare without their ornamental leaves — my thoughts of my mothers, my grandmothers, my great-grandmothers exhaustion. in the machine — lost in the beginning somewhere in the past. nevertheless, i will sleep well in my warm bed listening to the winter rain. morning arrives. a moments recovery, again what is it i am recovering from?
