The Bird
He
comes
flying
in the 'morn
high above me
dipping and diving.
He sings a song,
a melody sweet
drifting down,
touching my
heart and soul
lifting my spirit.
He spins and twirls,
whirling in the sunshine,
he floats on the breeze with ease.
There is no fear of crashing down.
Oh yes, I admire his great happiness, strength and his courage
I love his filigree feathers fluttering,
white and wispy so delicate yet strong.
Now he plummets downward
and calls my name loudly,
come fly today, fly
sweet earth girl,
and I laugh 'cause
I am flying, flying
in my mind, oh yes,
gliding and falling
drifting, twirling
whirling down
then up
high
high.
_________________________
April 9, 2020 (Edit)
Poetry/Shape/The Bird
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1242-664-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Submitted to Strand Pick 7 Contest,
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
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