Wing in the bush
pinned into bones
feathers torn
from lines exact
the plumes the
quills barbs barbules
row on row
the lives the eggs
tucked with care
under the breast feathers
until flashing silver
impact is deathly.
Ah Lucy, we are all birds.
ReplyDeleteYes we are! This poor little one didn't make it. Too intricately broken.
ReplyDelete