The Moebious Bird
swirling ascent,
streaming, feathered, winging --
'look at your tops, they are my bottoms,'
she tweets 'n twitters, murmurs me:me
surging urges in the air she soars
everywhere a falling feeling --
a free-spirit flows through her wings,
a sapient sixth sense
for rising up to close the gap --
caresses curious circuits, twirling,
swooning, reeling,
drifting through heightened meaning --
she speaks in many tongues,
larking on the edge of a hush with the rush
of a far-cry, a longing songing sigh --
in a fluttering, floating glide,
she rounds in passions now arrived, now along,
swooping, looping, going, going,
falling fast, now turned, re-turned, now gone
Copyright © Jerry Whalley | Year Posted 2009
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