Bird wing.




It is here, in the smallest of things where a trees breath glimmers, twinkles itself to death. Exhale.  Whats that noise ? Can you hear it ? Its only the wind you say. I raise my face, ready to run headlong, as usual. Giddy. There, see, look up my cushie-doo. Hundreds and hundreds maybe more, bird bones whoosh so close their feathers shiver my skin.

I laugh.

3 Replies to “Bird wing.”

    1. Hi , thanks for your comment. The text refers to an encounter with an enormous flock of birds in the woods. It was scary but beautiful and I laughed at being fooled by the sound. What I thought was a rush of wind turned out to be something quite other. A place of unexpected meetings.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I thought the reference to bird bones and feathers was metaphorical but now I understand, Your work is so beautiful and it is clear that you love to explore the unexamined – which has many surprises especially when you are on your own in isolated locations.

        Liked by 2 people

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