death poetry

a bird sang
just as my fingers on these keys
the darkness rolls upward
brief on a flying night
the lightning flashed, and lifted
as i lie roofed in, screened in
thoughts through my head
i bid them all farewell
beautiful
she must go back, she said
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
it was a tall young oysterman
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
he's gone