Winter morning
icy groundcover and overcast sky
I walk the neighborhood
Stop and stand beneath a tree
whose species I do not know
breath seen on the exhale, releasing upward
as neck stretched back, eyes awe-struck
taking in the lime green of bunches of leaves
tucked tightly in the tallest peaks of its arms
tracing the leafless branches, umber and gray toned
between the layered twigs, a body, dappled
spotted belly, gray, black, and rounded
underside of a tail orange and dark
a flicker
I have seen you in books, in digital pages
your raven-sun tail feathers gifted to me
wrapped in thin baby-blue yarn
such beauty and tenderness of your design
I have waited for you
and here you sit silently, dazzling, observing
I set aside all expectations now
I know if I wait your flight will aim my way
If I am only patient
as the street cat who peers into the cracked door
of a home, waiting to give in, to trust
to weasel her way into a warm, safe life
curled up in a corner bed, soundly asleep
until her human returns from walking into epiphanies
with western birds.
Photo by Georgina Marie, Flicker Feathers and Elements
