Just a Silhouette

Buckskinned French trappers
In birch bark canoes

Singing merrily as they paddle
Up the Hudson

Feathers and red ribbons
Flying from leather caps

Paddles flashing
In the summer sun

Burning the minds retina
Folding time like a concertina

Nearly visible from here
Where our own dress feathers

Are soaked in jet fuel–
Occasionally catching fire

And visible
From space

–Burl Whitman

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