Paper Cranes

Pockets filled with paper cranes -

So delicate, I try to walk slowly

To protect them. Don't tread too heavy,

 Or too far. I hear some crying,

Some laughing. My pockets

Weigh heavy as if by stones.

I go to the riverbank at dusk,

The water dark and whispering.

Grabbing the creased bodies in my hands,

I let them go, releasing them

To the moonlight.

Crumpled wings begin to flap, pit-pat,

Pit-pat. I watch as they fly away,

Leaving for the stars.