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Somewhere in a warm nest


A window pops out of the sky
Wings beat and bleed
In a flurry of liberated down

Dry specks of blood crack and fall
Floating down like feathers
Inside Winter’s slow motion

Somewhere in a warm nest
A tiny bird dreams of the day
The time
The sky closed up without warning
She flaps her wings involuntarily
Her mate covers her head with his neck
They close their little black eyes
inΒ  synchronicity


About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

8 responses »

  1. I like the picture, especially

    • You’re going to be doing your own pictures soon, Caddo! πŸ™‚ Oh yes you can!

      • Oh ye of great faith, sister Deb–truly, I’m laughing, because I think my neighbor intended the paint program to help me relax (which is a joke in itself–I’m wound up pretty much 24/7, which resulted in about a day’s worth of wanting to throw myself off the balcony; I’m only on the 2nd floor, so the worst I could do would be to twist my ankle. Don’t worry–either of you!!)

    • I am glad you like those birds πŸ™‚

      Your comment last night killed me.
      “Now that the reverent time has passed”
      I imagine you leaning your head ,looking out the window ,watching it drift away and anticipating the cooking talk. I guarantee you bring a lot of joy to Safeway.

      • You make me sound like a kid waiting for teacher to wrap up the boring stuff, so I can go to lunch–har har har, etc! Seriously, I LIVE to entertain you…”I’ll be baaack”

  2. Thank you, hero, I liked a flurry of liberated down. πŸ™‚ Oh to be able to write more freely like you do, to write fiction. I’ll keep reading. I heard that’s what helps the most.


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