Poem

The Meeting

Meanings meet
outside the body.

The white cane
is good to think with.
It assesses the pavement and curb,
tapping out the future.

All our words
also precede us
though we do not hold them in our hands,
these creatures of our breath.

Given wing
they sound out the world.
Wheeling flocks stirring the air, just birds
escaped from our intent.

Who am I?
Who are you to me?
A murmuration of starlings
we exhale between us.

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