Wings and Memories


fleeting as mist on the wing,
so many,
so deep and barely lost

This. . .
floating the night breeze,
jars clutched in eager hands,
weaving the trees and wild grasses

And that. . . .
the warm scent of hay
on a lazy day in spring,
the lingering hint of hoove and fur
an echo of itself

When a. . . .
wave chased giggling feet,
shells and stars
tumbling down tan limbs
to plop and sink

Where. . . .
moss clung to knobby leaves,
pungent decay a perfect cosmos
for a roll
and minute probe and poke

How. . . .
frozen flakes
were caught, outstretched
digits farflung
and bunched to crunch and sling

Were those shadows
running long side
these images in our dreams,
co-pilots of glee and whim,
pleasure and satisfaction met?

What became
of those journeys
interrupted by tenets
of sporadic maturity
levied on boisterous events?

And why?
. . .just why
have we lost
the innocence
that kept us safe
from life’s assignments?

meted out by well-meaning community
far, far adrift
from those wings and memories
. . .and our freedoms, lost


First Published by: Wilderness House Literary Review
Publication Date – 07/03/17
Issue # – Volume 12, No. 2




About Reality's Bellow

I like to ponder life's eccentricities. I don't really want to explain them or even understand them, just ponder...
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