like smooth brown sugar
the Sparrow’s perched on the edge
of the old tin roof;
her smaller, darker, fledgling
fluttering and chirping – near.
Brittle timbre of a tender twig
Reaching out, straining for the sunlight
Almost asking the question, “Which Way?”
Near the Earth the child wanders, but then
Changes its mind, flexing its elbow.
Height is what this new limb is seeking.
with brown [white satin]feathers
near my window
— penetrating dark eyes
does he see me watching(?)
biplane, my plane, a wing walker’s dream,
the air lifting me UP as I stand on the…
blue sky, a silence that trembles
Busy bumblebees buzz often;
A fluttering finch whistles, slight.
Do periwinkles twinkle in the moonlight?
When I close my eyes
and drift off to sleep,
I seek to fly
in the astral’s narrow halls.