Poets

Mother bird

Do you hear me,

Faint, delicate, warmth-giving Mother Bird?

Do not grow weary

Spread your wings and invite them in

To the shelter of your feathers

These tools to fly by and cover

To dip

To saturate

In the ink-blood of the churning puddles you stumble on in life

Those wings to lift them safety and pull them to your side

With a gentle violence more difficult to understand than peace

Because that’s what you deliver always.

Mother Bird

Do you understand me,

Beautiful, dancing, breath-giving Mother Bird?

Do not grow complacent

From limb to limb jump higher than you want

To the spaces no one

Will inhabit without your light

Paint into masterpieces your heart

With your heat

With your words

Move your feet to the sounds

It doesn’t matter which ones, for we all hear enough

Without care but with great deliberation move always.

Mother Bird

Great story teller, healer, tribe-keeper

Do not grow faint.

With your head high, but low enough to always see

How close you truly are to the ground,

Proclaim your existence

With the song from your beak and

The flowing ink from your wing

Proclaim your existence

No matter how much the frozen tundra of winter groans

Or the scorching heat of summer land moans

Dwell in the air

Watch the cycles of life repeat and soar over

Circling with your grace

Knowing the ice only aches as it expands and

The growing pains of the field are written as a symphony for you.