Full of Glory
Fist full of wildflowers,
stems staining
the lines,
once fine but now
etched deeply
in glory, she paces
the large backyard,
wonders where all
the elaborate
plans met a not
so inglorious truth.
An unknown
species
of bird startles
this moment;
the unnamed wildflowers
drop from her hand.
She is the starling,
scattering seed.
Next summer,
she will know
all of their names,
these birds filled with glory,
filling the air
with their flight,
an uprising
of wildflowers
left in their wake.
2 comments:
wondrous. and the uprising of wildflowers, so kinetic and forceful, as if they themselves have wings.
Glad you like this, jim!
One day maybe I will know their names--the birds, the wildflowers, but that's really not all that important, I suppose, unless one wants to name one in a poem or one takes up a hobby like birdwatching or Name That Wildflower for $1,000!
I know them. I know their color and smell and the way they make me feel. That's enough for now.
I did buy a lovely book recently that I am enjoying: Bright Wings: An Illustrated Anthology of Poems About Birds. Edited by none other than Mr. Collins! I do like the selections, the drawings, and the accompanying info about the birds included with the drawings.
Glad you stopped by!
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