wings

some wings aren’t feathers, but leaves instead.

some wings drink from roots, not three toes.

some wings hold hands, finger limb to limb,
smiling into the taste behind your lips.

some wings beckon the wind to themselves
although the sentiment is mutual.

some wings remember your face, you who
swam in their autumn change of grace.

did you thirst for their brittle scattering
tresses at your feet?  they do notice that.

how our feet land in the sky does matter,
how your voice takes theirs inside.

some wings hold very still as earth
soars on past their steadfast gaze.

leaves are kin when water is blood.

world keeps listening and flying in.
 
 

about this poem.

first of a series? glossary?

take your two hands, open palms, fingers spread, facing each other.
now allow the fingers to interweave. that’s what this poem is.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s