Ballast
Birds eye me through
this upstairs window
Fibrillating bow ties
feathering in and out
Through a hole in the
eaves of the house next door
Carving a moment out from
bringing in the sheaves
To reflect on ease of
ingress and egress
The smarter ones
perceiving keys beg pockets, pockets
Pants and so on and so
on until taking wing is just a memory.
They might be onto something,
soaring while I sit
Grounded laden down with
keys, smart phone, wallet, knife and
Some change, quietly arranging
ballast from my pockets
Along the edge of the sill,
snaking a hand up between the blades
Of my back probing for
nubs of nascent wings.
No comments:
Post a Comment