If I could fly into the branches, tuck in my wings like the morning dove, I would sit for hours, see the dawn’s dappled-climb, trace the shadows of a mid-day sun, rest my eyes on the horizon as day dissipates into darkness, and wait for the shimmering stars in the milky-glow of a waning crescent.Continue reading “If”
No chorus-flock waits atop this spindle-limbed tree as we watch the dawning, just one lone bird, his feathers tucked, sits in sullen silence, mourning. —C.L. Fisher, August 2021 Unless otherwise indicated, all writings and images are the work of C.L. Fisher and may not be copied, used, or distributed without permission.
My heart in hiding/ Stirred for a bird, — the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!” — from The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins We have a pair of kites in our neighborhood, but you must have a sharp eye to find them. I am constantly looking to the sky and in the limbsContinue reading “Chasing Kites”