Palm Sunday

A small gray cloud, framed in bright blue sky;

A shadow cast, caught in a light breeze, brushes my cheek.

I emerge from the edge of moon light’s nightmare.

Birds gliding in tandem swoop past me,

Heralding my release with songs from heaven on outstretched wings.

Flight in graceful pantomime

For acceptance of amends, for time served,

And for time ongoing;

I feel the palms beneath my feet.

As dark shadow and I,

For the last time,

Will ever meet.