Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Growing Wings

The nubs are ready
to break through.
They itch and itch
and itch.

I understand how
a yearling's antlers
need a rough
rub on bark to
shred the velvet
casing.

Do you remember
as a child finding
a discarded feather?

If it had separated
into shaggy disorder
we'd lick our fingers
and stroke it with
the grain until the
minute barbs grabbed
each other smooth,
no splits.

I wonder if my
new wings will
need to unfold,
dry out, soar
with strength and
stamina? Will they
need groomed? If
a feather falls, I will
sharpen the shaft
and fill the
quill with ink.