Morning Bird

The feathers of the fog, lone

morning bird Majestic, leaping

into the silent sky With no 

spectators, you quietly steer 

yourself, so attuned to the

fate of the fishes in the frigid 

winter waters 

How lucid and stoic you appear

(though I may project this onto you)

Calm, poise, dignity 

An omniscient thing, foregoing all

the quibbles and questions, 

feasting and then embracing

a death that falls upon you,

as the blankets of snow 

roll down from Heaven 

You were here,

then you left 

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

Insight from nature brings us to just being; a parallel cosmological order. Fascinating insight.

[John the Baptist]

Natural is not particularly sentimental. The bird hunts and kills without questions. It is what it does. The bird does not know it is part of a cycle, and it, too, will fall. Maybe we're that way, too.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

killing to survive, so different from killing for sport...

something about this poem really draws me in...I saw the bird...the world around the bird and nothing else...no humans, no structures...just nature...and that is heaven to me.
j.