Flamingo was an iridescent feather
A whoosh of wind over  lake rocks
Smelling of Siberia in  lost thoughts
Lost lovers en  route on Himalayas
Frozen feathers rustling in blizzard.

Flamingo is no longer ice but wind
Frozen in the lake air,as in a painting
Flapping wings of futility, in despair
About Siberian lover lost to steppes
Now taking a local lover  in the lake.

A bastard flamingo will he be  local
Or will there be a reverse migration
 Spunk enough to cross  Himalayas?


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