USA

SOMETHING ABOUT
A Winged Sonnet 

Nature is a foolish place to look for 
inspiration in, but a charming one in 
which to forget one ever had one.  
	Oscar Wilde

Something about these little song sparrows, 
their avian tongues and throaty chortles, 
the buzzy twitterings floundering air 
just outside the steamy bedroom window. 		
Something about the rain, the way it clucks 
its testy tongue against the glass a blur 
with the setting sun's seductive passion. 
Something about these sprightly singers.

Something about the way they tuck themselves 
inside their wing bars devoted to feathers.
Something about the heart here pinned inside, 
the tick of it, sky so blue, nimbus moon.  
Something about this perch beside the pane 
to watch day nestle in a moody moonlight. 

Publication Credit:  Pittsburgh Post Gazette

SOMEDAYS, DOCKED HERE
South Shore Park, Pgh., PA

All summer
we watched
for something,
the return
of gulls 
riverside,
ducks circling
boat wakes,
a promise
of rain. 
We waited
like a still life, 
butterflies
flirting weeds
at our feet,  
waited for 
the rock dove's
coo, a fingernail 
moon.  

Somedays, 
like house wrens,
we chipped
the sticky air
with curious
chatter, 
we dipped
and preened,
turned
our wings
from the sun,
landlocked
by another 
summer,
the pulse
and shift 
of each other.

						
Somedays
our thoughts,
bared 
and spare
as winter limbs,			
rose, a surprise,
barrel chested, 
cheeky and loud
on the voice
of geese
beating against 
the gray 
of sky awash 
with clouds.

One day
at the other
side of day,
our eyes a blur
with stars,
we breathed 
in outer space,
and our mouths
formed words
the shape of love,
and the sky
cracked open
with rain blades
sheathed 
in thunder,
electrified
by light,
in another
simple act
of tension.

Publication Credit:  Petroglyph

© All Copyright, Andrena Zawinski.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.