Folded Wings

June 17, 2011 § Leave a comment

The red-winged blackbird didn’t move

from his perch on the wooden post,

.

even though I walked steadily and

my dog ran away and back for tennis balls.

.

Down over the hill, across the water

and the marshes, others of his kind

balanced on the tops of reeds.

.

“Aren’t you afraid, fellow?”

I finally had to ask him, when I stood only a foot

away, admiring the creases of his feathers.

.

He unfolded and resettled himself,

the red shoulders flashing.

.

Then he spread his wings wide,

but the pause had been long enough

for me to know what he meant.

.

I live here.

.

I watched him fly down to the marshes,

where the light faded into blue and shade.

.

Then we walked on, dog and person,

tossing the tennis ball like two children

in the neighbors’ big backyard.

Advertisements

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Folded Wings at Kinds of Honey.

meta

%d bloggers like this: