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Between Two Rivers
February 24, 2021February 24, 2021

A Bird’s Breast Can Hold A Poet’s Heart

Grosbeak at the window, turned to catch the light, her silhouette reveals the fragile stance & turn: the exquisite balance of style and form, the longing that lifts those hollow bones

Air instead of marrow! Only in dreams could I imagine it, the wings flicker and go, return and swell, dwell within that charging heart, letting go only when the days work is done & done.

I know what blooms first in these woods, the willow, the redbud & then sumac sings as the tree frogs ripen, touching but touching gently those swooping birdy shoulders

Trial by dragon fire, music by first light, stories by children – They are all just birds really, one canticle calls another, first a vision of flying, then flying, then the vision again

we can hop across the field after them, but is it really necessary ?  Couldn’t we just put our wings on ?

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