Personal Post

The Lure of Feather

The Lure of Feather

There is stillness in hunger within the Green Heron,

within me as I wait for a poem to stop fidgeting.

Together we linger while the lure of feather does its work,

killing time before the next death strikes a blow.

Not sure of the angle. Not knowing yet

if a wound or a clamp will be the cure.

I like it when the Green Heron opens her beak

because it is bright, bright as the orange

Touch-me-nots nodding to her left,

nectar warm within the spurs.

No responses

Want to leave a comment? Log in or sign up!