I am not of
broken wing
trailing
feathers on the ground
a smear of
memory in my wake
nor do I
hide in the shadows
in secret
places undiscovered
by even the
most discerning
I am not a
cocoon
waiting for
metamorphosis
to set me
free
so I might
flit from bloom to bloom
to drink
nectar sweet
inspiring a
poet to write
of gossamer
wings and drunken flight
***
I am of
moon and stars
and the
dust of red earth
scattered
chaotically
across
spaces marred by time
anointed by
the grace of rain
to slake the
thirst of wonder
I am of sun
and wind
and
whitecaps of the sea
where
seabird shrieks echo
across the
undulations
a fire
burning on a rocky knoll
flames
piercing the dark
ktn © 2013
