Saturday, January 7, 2012

To a Blackbird


Black- feathered sheaves that slap harsh air

with waving wings dart like spooks

through dismal, gray-spun skies, I watch

your silhouette with dainty flare

secreted on a dark-barked tree.

Your plumage melts in shadows deep

as night. Unsought and unobserved,

your glee may pour its mirthful cup

into the snow-drenched ground below,

or soar the heights of powdered dome,

cloud-barred from view. Abandonment

is yours. Envy is mine, whose wings

are bolted to earth’s stagnant clay.



Evelyn Coffey

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