We blow rictus words Forth, dear Night-Mother, Pluming, brushing, still Filling mouthlings all, The uncanny worm; Plunges, head-first, whole. Sinking little feet, The bracken stings us, Anchors us, lucky Save plunging, outward, Out there, outside, into Sky-fold, cloudless pit. We caw, we cry, we Lament loamy grounds We helpless tumble. We are not nimble, We are brave, we are Catching, like our claws We catch the worm on Sunny days, under Rain, or peaches cloud. Little leaves of gold Craven umbrellas, Tumble, they tumble They save us, above They wait, nacreous. We huddle, brothers. Our feathers are warm, Our feathers are warm! We are mud, gold, ash And opal. Always, Rounded and wholesome, Just like our Mother.
© copyright Eve Redwater 2011
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Very nice! How very visual your words are!
Hello there!
Thank you for taking a look, I’m glad you like it!
I love this part:
“Our feathers are warm,
Our feathers are warm!
We are mud, gold, ash
And opal. Always,”
Hello Chandra,
Thank you for your kind comment! I imagined them all snuggling together – it makes my heart all fuzzy. 🙂
Hi Eve. This is a lovely poem, the words directly from the mouths of little birds… I love the ‘opal’, also ‘we are not nimble, we are brave’. I can almost hear the high pitches voices saying their simple thinkings…. Jane
Hello Jane, thank you as always for your kind comments! I particularly enjoyed writing this one, little birds are adorable. 🙂