Homing Dusk

A hostile night breeze

wipes out the tears of a child

in the fast lane, for the first time,

the same way, the midday sun

dries up the high-yielding springs,

timing the return flight

of a single-winged
race pigeon.

A wind gust

caresses the aged surnames

carved in tree trunks

by chance third parties

while the deformed impressions

of their rightful owners

carry their sins to a collective grave

dug deeply under the dust horizon.