Wednesday, September 12, 2012

jaybird. (my sister)

 i like to write things to my sister.  Sometimes i pen them on paper and give them to her.  sometimes when i think about her i write other things for her.  this one is old. 
floating on feathers as leaves that flutter by
in reds and oranges,
delicate as a butterfly, living in a thing glass jar,
or a bird in an eggshell room
looking through a keyhole door
in a bed of sticks and stones,
falls from such heights break fragile bones
grounded and smudged
head out of the clouds
forward she trudged
with caution. poise
never leaps and bounds.
the joys that surround
turn to white noise sound

a small broken bird
on the shores of brine
drinks in the silence
solitude and time.

sun rays shine down
warming fallen hatchling on the ground
feathers she  preens
spreads forth her wings
opens her beak and sings.

here's a song to listen to,   i think its fitting.   

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