When the Bones

When the delicate bones began to fall from the sky
Scientists said they were fish bones,
Though not from local fish...
Shaped like old TV antennae, they were size of your palm,
Falling across the world, though seldom
Into the ocean.

When the paper birds burst from tree trunks
Like blank souls swirling upward
So thickly that older people remembered descriptions
From history books about abundance,
Scientists again reassured us
Birds they were.

For some, it seemed as if we were being asked to speak
They reached out, risking sliced hands and arms
But most fell into a shocked silence
Words and images sheared
From their bones
And souls.

Sharing with Poets United and The Sunday Muse. Many thanks to Carrie for the image that (along with James and back road drives to random gaming stores) gives me an excuse to carve out time each week for writing poetry.
--Chrissa