Poem by Clifford Saunders 





Thank you, fickle wind, 
for kicking up the old leaves

of my life that refuse to die.
Thank you for every twitch 

of my hands.
Thanks to you, my moments

sing to each other
like sea animals.

I love the carousel of dreams,
thanks to you and the blazing sun.

Thanks for riding on it
like a kid with a black eye.

Thanks for catching the crow
who cried with his feet

near his sleeping brother.
Thank you, for many birds

cloud the dawn
with their own torment,

and loss is the onion
breaking into too many small pieces.