Sunday, October 20

Bluebird

BLUEBIRD
Where qualms converge
The gray-tipped wings
Of a heart's bluebird
Twitch, falter . . . flutter.
Captive no longer,
Sought refuge by choice,
Preens for a much-anticipated
Flight.
Sleeps, now, rests its head.
Tucks its beak
Into its delicate breast.
And waits . . .
Waits . . .
Waits.

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