Blackbird Wings

A short poem about questions and guidance.

Each autumn I look up to the big spaces

left between tree branches by summer leaves.

The oaks try to raise themselves up to be seen,

staunchly quivering, pining to the sun for spring.

This morning countless blackbirds weigh down

the lifted branches, pausing in the middle of a turn

in a cyclic journey. They often feel they should stop

and question the one they trust to lead them

as they rise, sealing spaces, camouflaging clouds.

He answers with the movements of his wings.

Author's Note

Aaron
[email protected]

Reviews

[writing mojo]

Very good piece, I love the way you transition from collection to wholes; or should I say holes, every little space created between the words roots to a well placed image you have uncovered from what so many would consider as just shadows. well done!
...good stuff

[Yuan]

pretty good, I can see the underlining of sadness of the empty space where once were filled with leaves of spring, and all of a sudden expose a flock of black wings that isn't so auspicious to the tree. like!

[Gandré]

this was wonderful and innocent.

a poem one can read again.

[Tom Chan]

very enjoyable :)

[Lily Mae]

"He answers with the movements of his wings."

A soulful poem and one that holds so many different meanings. I could see the

blackbirds sitting there in their observation of our human free fall..xx Excellent..x

[Ruth]

This is glorious! Such depth to this piece love! I really enjoyed reading this...you have captured the beauty of life and its thoughts in mid flight...paused almost - if that makes sense lol
Stunning work...thought provoking love! xx

[Pradnya]

simple and nice, nice work :)

[M.D]

This whole setting would, in my opinion, match with griffins, add some mystical, mythical feelings =)