Taking Flight

[marciaw]

  Each night at six the man opens the small doors of cages for pigeons
to flutter out into sun-painted skies. One
by one they reel off their perch, strike their wings
into beating, collect in clouds sweeping together
   sculpting skyways
banked for rising and falling, slicing light
   white to silver
   grey to silver

Each night I pedal my bike, watch

Comments

[arwyn]

That's a super poem. Thanks for sharing! And happy flights!