Tuesday, July 13, 2010

I'd Like To Be A Bird Again

This morning a baby black-capped chickadee in the garage
fluffed and outraged.

Suddenly     the smell of summer     took    me
back     to when we were the wind     running on bare feet
across the yard
to the fenceline
dragging our ankles through purple bloom-laden crownvetch
stirred up honeybees     took flight
to the edge of Eades' farm
fingers sticky with milkweed     pod popping for the silk inside.
There were so many more butterflies then.
We were tiger swallowtails.
And we were barn owls     we were small mice nibbling
     last year's fallen field corn.
We were dragonflies     with eyes like jewels.
We were lightning bugs     glowing off to each other
     through the night.
We were cows     wading up to our bellies
     in thick brown water.
We were blue gill swimming round our legs.

We were savages of the moment
unschooled and fearless.
We were downy black-capped chickadees
circling away     up     into open sky.


(c)Amanda Hart Cravotta               2009
published in Skipping Stones Vol VI
Mindworm Press, Chesapeake, VA

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