birdland

Sunday morning light
my wing brushing
against guitar brings
melody
icicles breaking
off the building
how quickly life can
be taken
the glory of thoughts
in my head
of cognition
and being a breathing,
blood pumping bird
in a colorful nest

the gold eagle atop flag pole
in cemetery
the bald eagle flying low
above us, above forest
listening to the Eagles
on the radio: you can’t
hide your lying eyes
the bird house birch
colored blending with the
tree on Pearl Street
my dreaming of giant
bird houses
as investments

2 comments

  1. Scott Keeps Running · January 26, 2010

    I love the contrast between breaking and blending.

    Like

  2. Becky · January 28, 2010

    Love the poetry. Blogs seem to be a great place to share work–especially when you know you have an audience! Thanks for the "Followers" tip too. I poked around a little, but it's much easier when someone can point you in the right direction.

    Like

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