Half-dead –
dew-slick feathers
smack in the middle of the lawn,
I kneel &
follow its watery eye
-line to a nest it left too early,
the pink pink
of a mother blackbird
sticking out now from the rabble.
Tucking two
gloved hands under
its tummy, its legs kicking like a toddler,
I offer it up
like an oblation
to the sky, a cry of repentance
for my own
deviation, as if
I had fallen & not flown.
-
Author:
Ryan Robson-Bluer (
Offline) - Published: April 14th, 2023 07:34
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments2
Beautiful words in honoring those who missed their flight-Powerful setting of imagery
Beautiful words in honoring those who missed their flight-Powerful setting of imagery -I invite you to read my poem flight: I was regrettably only the observer but you have participated your narrative
Thank you! Very kind - I'll check out Flight now
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