sunken eyes (20170423)

My kind of poem πŸ™‚

Words and Feathers

the bird sings the night sky
fading blues to pinks to
the solitary color of its heart

three trills, short
one cry, long
a heartbeat separated by chambers
struck out of order
a solitary sound of night

listen
the rustle of feathers
listen
the quiet of parting leaves
the river of the freeway
the black heart beating

β€”β€”

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 23

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Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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