Bird Scraps 9

Sifting sand
Through fingertips
Burned by brown hued leaves
Ignited by fireflies
Under the full moon
Portrays the depth of a puddle.

In the morning
In the distance
All that is heard:
The rustling of
Feathers in a
Lingering puddle illuminated
By pale sunspots,
Passing reflexions
Of your fingers tracing letters
In the air backwards
Forming things,
Slaking my curiosities.