Morning Full of Birds
The whole house wakes dreaming of
the hawk with an old woman’s face.
I invited her in, also the owl perched on sofa arm,
Rotating and tilting his head.
I think hummingbirds have moved on,
begun the long flight down toward sunlit hour after hour,
until two appear in tango,
a love lance, over faux red flower.
The bland coated female wins
a full five-minutes of dulcet hover.
Behind her the breeze persuades
intertwined pines into a coupled wobble.
These strange animal dreams, when voiceless foliage speaks,
When wings scream a chorus of retreat and invitation.
Turn your face to the sun when the sky is falling.
(The sky is always falling)
Feel blessing of breeze and birdsong.
Couple with the warm light.
Commit yourself again to this web of world,
each thread supporting the next, each line dew sparkle and death.
We are all caught and spun, weave and devour.
All fraught filament. All boundless wing.
About the Poet: Twila Newey lives with her four children, husband and several elk herds in the mountains west of Denver, Colorado. She earned her M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Naropa University and has finished her first novel, a portion of which won publication in Exponent II’s Midrash Contest, fall 2016. In addition to her voracious appetite for fiction, she is an avid reader and writer of poetry.
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