< 1
Egg hums, shell cracks
wings wet spiral-wrap
bird born to stillness.
Stillness shifts to twitch
both scratches
and causes the itch.
Itch brings words swaddled with wings.
Words that strive toward wonder—
ideas are flutter-life, bird sings,
Sings, then stops, lost in thought
murk and muddle, blocks the flux
Fingers blindly search for nativity
Nativity waits till the star emerges
Huddles in shards of shell until wings unfurl
bright words line up on the wire.
Wire of words like birds that
queue up at the feeder
spilled and overfilled.
Overfilled; gravid
Delphic ovule poised for another little budgie,
whose beak already bickers with the egg.
I’ve been writing for a while, I like the puzzle of narrative, memoir, metaphor combined with poetic forms. I love the word count effect that your challenges offer. I have one poetry collection, The Glass Train, 2017, Amherst Writers and Artists Press. I am gestating a second collection of poems.