‘Eagle, from the Roadway’

He did not soar,

but in the set of his wings

was the power

of his great span—

perched as he was, on the branch

of an oak far above,

silhouetted by the grey

of an early morning shower.

He lifted once to shake

the rain,

his underfeathers fanning outward–

in effortless backstroke

against the pull of gravity.

As he rose, clouds

parted, and the sky

made way,

wrinkling the horizon.

In the silence of his wings

was the sound of the sun

rising.

By Elaine Koplow of Hardwick, NJ

‘Little Birds Achirp’

Perhaps they’re hummingbirds

those tiny little squirts

with their little red heads

flitting about

dancing

seemingly having fun

cheep cheep chirp chirp

cheery bim

they’re here for me

putting on a show

hopping to and fro

letting me know

the slightest bit of movement

whirls their wings

like a high speed fan

the size of a thumb

but alive

raw

part of the scene

tiniest of tiny

beating little heart

hungry little maw

i’m watching you

inside me fluttering

scaring me

as I too am

what they are made of

hip hop

jump up

jump down

fly

find your friend

chase

dip down

soar up

peck

peck away

no one’s stopping you from eating

no scale to weigh yourself on

no discernment, no ideal

no feeling you’ve made a mistake.

By Myra Mniewski of Cocheton, NY