brant in winter

ice

Blackheaded
no mistake
wavecurve breast
and wings open
spread against the air

Grace herself
untethered unmoving
Her sunlit feathers
catch the still
the frigid brittle air

She lets it hold her
Lets it O gently
release her
modest magnificence
as motionless
she descends
descends
as if nothing more
than feathers bones flesh

As if
just a bird
coming to earth

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s