I don't know the names
of the little birds
with their clustered golden
feathers
dancing against the descent
of a day
not the names we have given them
nor those they hold themselves
only that as they protest the last
light leaving
I am reminded of the value of flight
in the narrow
lense of letting go
Author notes
Edits: 2
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A contest entry
- And then, again... Evening by CarolDesjarlais.
1400 points, ended April 20, 11 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think (Critical Honesty Appreciated)
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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beautifully penned...sometimes we need not know the names at all...nor name the impact they have on us...and so they become Universal and connected to the One.
This speaks volumes..and beautifully so. -
I have to say, this is one of my favorites of your work that I have read so far
Just lovely, love those last lines.
Khia
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We make names for everything and in magic the right name gives control. Perhaps, it is better to let them fly. I can see the crumpled dreams unfolded and smoothed to catch the feathers that fall from the sky.
Peace,
Tom B.
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I love those last lines..
and how they tie into the image of nameless disappearance ....
flight, positive or negative.. it's the action of lifting way ...
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Oh I love that!
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Sighhh...Sheesh...You just had to go & show up for the contest, didn't ya, Darlin'??? 
What a silken, elegant piece this is, my Friend. Gorgeous, damnit. 
A wondrous entry, small in stature & huge in its brilliant light.
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