Stir darkness,

scatter light.

From shadows’

flutter and flux,

pluck the edges’

patterns,

those separating

places between

extremes,

gray and

overlooked.

At long last,

margins unearthed,

laid bare, and

connected.

From that space,

call my name.

From that space,

we will sing

an expectant

song…

— C.Birde, 6/20