James Walton #60 Two handed draw

I had thought

like a bird falling from a nest,

undressed as a heart

beating within my palm,

to have outlived usefulness

instead with both arms lifting

because I had no choice,

that frantic beak signing

in all the shredded shorthand,

ever lost to this binary world

placed the wingless thing

into the silky oak’s airy cradle,

then sat cross legged and whistled

a feathery version of In My life,

waiting for new down to form