poem written based upon this painting by "Faye," 2025
poem submitted to "1495" poetry contest, Brian Strand, sponsor, August 13, 2026
She sat with the book open, its pages breathing like a small, warm world. Above her, the birdcage shimmered~ a crown of restless wings, a sky she carried without knowing. The birds inside were not trapped; they were ideas learning their shapes, fluttering against the bars as if testing the edges of possibility. Each beat of their wings stirred a thought she hadn’t spoken yet. The girl read slowly, letting the words rise like feathers brushing her mind. Some thoughts patiently perched waiting for courage. Others darted wildly, bright with wanting. She tilted her head, listening. The cage chimed softly~ a music made of questions, of wonder, of the first trembling of imagination. She didn’t try to silence it. She simply held the book closer, as if stories could steady the wings. One bird pressed its beak through the bars, catching a thread of sunlight. Another hopped toward the opening, testing freedom. The girl smiled, feeling the flutter inside her chest matching the flutter above her head. She didn’t know yet that someday the door would open, and the birds would fly out carrying her thoughts into the world. But she sensed it~ the way a child senses weather, or hope, or the beginning of her own voice. For now, she read. And the birds of thought kept beating their small, bright wings, waiting for her to lift her eyes and follow.
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