Broken
I wonder about her
as I shave suet and place thistle seed down -
once again
she reveals herself to the corner of my eye
a slight movement caught in the slant of a sunray
just enough to separate her shy form
from leaf litter camouflage
I turn to look at her
demure and just out of reach - yet
she seems to know I feel for her..
I regard her presence for a handful of heartbeats
before she hastens away in a certain way
head moving forward first then feet catching up
..rustling the earthy rust of gold;
fallen maple stars strewn beneath an arborvitae row..
a wing hanging down by her side
like a gate with a broken hinge
her gateway to freedom gone
she’s become a body bound to soft soil -
flesh and bones destined to feed the trees of life
soon her feathers - like thistle down - will animate aloft
weightless in soulful breaths of a swirled November wind..
pearls of muted beauty lost in innocence
given back to the skies
I wonder about the tender fragility of a tomorrow
in an air where mourning coos
are watered down by whimsical tears of gods
and stirred by a mortal’s yearn for return to natural flight
I commiserate with her silently —
for I am broken too
Susan Ashley
November 17, 2020
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Brian Strand No 1175
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Second Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2020
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