The Footprints Of Birds Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now I am as famished as a stone sitting upon the
High ground—while my wife lies beside me,
Reading in the night—
As the waves caress the shore, as the airplanes
Caress the sky,
And the other fabulous natures such as wolves
Retreat—
And what place is this but a graveyard—
And my scars want for more
Liquor while the skeletons are playing cards
With themselves
While my dog sleeps on the floor—
And then there are birds in the night and
In the mangroves—
And another reason leaves the earth never
To return again—these are the possibilities that
They leave behind—
And I have nothing left for you to remember even
As I disappear like the footprints of birds
Upon the shore.