Little bird ruffled and wet
fallen and alone
let me take you in my open hand
where you may choose
I will tell you of leaf cups filled with dew
and corn tassels whisping dry September day
do not wait till there is no sun
each note is finitude of song
spring out with outstretched wings
your claws release
my joy
Comments
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Brief, but new with joy
Reading this poem is like be born again for a few moments. Everything is new, every living thing has its own song to sing---all for the first time, but only for a short time. Yet within that short time is "joy".
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"where you may choose" - i love the image of the open hand.
there is so much in this piece. the last two lines are so powerful and climactic.
i enjoy the juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability in this.
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I should give credit to Eva St Vincent Millay, and her poem "Love In the Open Hand." I came across this expression during some of the mean days of the civil rights period, in New Orleans. I tend to remember such things. Your reaction was just what I was trying to convey.
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Beautiful and so serene with such selfless undertones, it is so sweet.
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