Lavender. | Lost Is the Song of Us. by Sandra Hosking

Dormant lavender emits
Its scent when touched.
Before it blooms midsummer
It tells you who it is.
People do that, too,
If you stand close enough
To sense.

Lost is the song of us
Taken as we walked along the road
By crows
Each peck plucking out one note
They ascend
They circle
They dive
This murder

Sandra Hosking is a Pushcart-nominated poet, playwright, and photographer in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in Joey, Red Ogre Review, 3 Elements Review, West Texas Review, The Uncommon Grackle, Cirque Literary Journal, Edify Fiction and the book Along Southern Roads. Hosking holds M.F.A's in theatre and creative writing.