A small grey breast fatigued, a beak
the shroud of song, a pulse
at fail to wanting wings whose
tail tips pinstripe her gratified tongue.
It is her offering. Here, she seems to say
with wide eyes and full maw, this
still warm beauty, this kill, this skill hunted,
this sublime vignette is for you.
I feel wild for a moment, hungry
watching a single downy feather
lift with the passing breeze.
Linked to DVersePoetsPub w/ Tony Maude. After reading Tony’s prompt, I lopped the first stanza off of a poem I posted yesterday. The first lines contain technical information, and I wonder how it reads without them. I’d love to hear your feedback. Try not to read the first 7 comments as they give too much info. Cheers, poets! I am headed out to your blogs.