“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label eave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label eave. Show all posts
Sunday, January 20, 2019
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Nightfall
Woken from a deep slumber, as if my name was spoken aloud. Only the spotlight of a honeyed full moon sings across my shadowed walls. Heart...

-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
When I wonder do we first think we Are welcome to the world? From the abyss of a watery womb we hear outside of Us w...