The two of them hushed in their exodus,
Wingtip to wingtip, origami on velvet,
Twin expressions of a single thought,
Forever at home in the tropical night.
Weaving through becalmed coconut fronds,
Neither silver, nor brilliant white -
But merely vivid, in the splendorous air,
Their forms are engraved into my sight,
Aloft, the billowing clouds, at rest.
Were they material, or mere fleeting ghosts?
I cannot be sure if I've seen these birds,
And yet I know that they're a part of me -
Compound expressions of a single thought,
Like you and I.
Copyright 2018 Brent Hightower