National Poetry Month

It's beginning again.  For the third year in a row I am participating in Napowrimo (National Poetry Writing Month) by writing a poem a day.  Many of them will show up here.  The early bird prompt is to write a poem about birds.  So here's my first attempt.

Tail Feathers

 I saw a heron fly off from the pond today.

Truth be told 

I heard the whoosh of its wings

and caught sight of its tail feathers 

before it was obscured by the trees 

that lined the open space.

This is the way we see most wild things—

Indistinct,

Blurry.

Sometimes the wild things

in my heart are just as hard to observe.

I think I am on the trail,

close to Hope,

the little bird that keeps so many warm*,

nearing Dreams,

the raptor that lifts to new heights.

But then, with a whoosh

and a flap of the wings,

they are out of sight,

leaving behind a longing,

a hope of another encounter,

another brush with mystery.

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This poem was inspired by an essay in Boundary Waters by Paul Gruchow.

This line comes from a poem by Emily Dickinson.