as above

The bird flaps its wing

making the air above Light

falls from the fanned flame.

Image credit by D. Dibenski [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sky stalker

He was close
      atop the next door
               roofline,
two doors and eight windows away,

I can feel him
not caring
but staring
              at me
              clearly
cocking his head
and aiming his
       attention my way.

I return his gaze
             between two crows feet
I squint
             and am unable to define
where wing
                    and feather divide

like the wind

no where
Now
how he can soar
               based on feeling
a passing breeze
across his breast
plate

I maintain my ground
feeling anchored
under air

the predator holds its breath
while the raptor releases
a piercing scream
before
he takes flight
giving one more glance

downward
I stay affixed
under this eave

awaiting a closure
of wing, sky
and the hungry eye.
         


    
Painting by Edwin Henry Landseer, 'The falcon' c. 2837 in Public domain.

With the worms

Shaking off his jacket
spotted with purple dots of dew,
he unfurls his wings
and dashes off
to a new perch
higher up.

In the insistent rising sun
my head and shoulders form
an opposition,
casting shadows on
soft golden blades
rooted underfoot.

Stirring begins from the ground
where settled matters to-day
such as History and alternative pathways,
are made with each step one leg takes
at a time
to make movement or progression
of orbit

in order
to get there
only to see the selfsame shrinking
without feathers, but by a hair
and blunted nose not pointed beak.

This is sharp steel light
severing the warm body
from the sound mind.

A murmuration demonstrates
the reason
for gathering
our resources
but taking them
lightly.





Painting by Léon Bazille Perrault, 'The Bird Charmer' 1873 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

a little birdie knows no wordies

Little tawny thrush
why so jumpy? Spring has not sprung.
And you have certainly known before now
the cats that live here-this pride.

Silly sparrow, 'twas all made up
those felines would not know what to do
with you-yet how they do like watching
all the twitching
you do.

Look over here! Cackles rise,
this tweet and grub dash,
fidget and dart,
you cool hearted busy birdy,
on holiday.

The cat sees your ploy-a quick dip
in the fountain-this one couldn't care,
he laughs a hoarse then licks his nails.
Oh, this little bunting
gets behind his pinprick hot holed ears
and says-or chirps-
POTUS, po' po' us, po' us another
wergle fumpus, with yellow belly feathers, like a lilly livered loiterer,
tethered to others, such as the not so rare big-billion-billed cuckoo,
Who, who, who knew-
how to flap in place.

Polly-ana-cracker-barrell-of-monks like these-
Just look at that jittery pulpy face,
ask, just ask, he is fluffed and full of flock
puffy and inflated on a fence takes no flight
path to escape,
the last words were purr-purr
after the cat
finally got his tongue.

Painting by Louis Émile Pinel de Grandchamp [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.