brant in winter


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
as if nothing more
than feathers bones flesh
As if
just a bird
coming to earth