On Winter’s Margins

Preprogrammed by their own,
parent birds, in oral history’s melody,
have taught summer’s fledglings
where the prince of crumbs resides.

On legs lengthening like reeds,
driven by hunger’s insistent whisper,
trusting two to reach leaves,
a fawn learns to dance with the wind.

Following an impressionable map,
a gift to compensate for inexperience,
with green’s camouflage gone,
an eaglet arrives where a track ends.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: