Bird In Flight

Flying high,
A soprano in disguise,
She flew, a proud bird.

Winged arms waved in salute,
In tribute,
In prayer,
Humble homage
Paid to the heavens.

Higher, higher, higher
She flew, a brown-eyed bird on a swing,
High up to God’s playground.

She was five,
The wind in song, softly stinging her face.

She was awake,

Honeyed-hair tangled
In the warm wind,
The tree tops,
High about the ground.

She was the earth child,
The queen mother,
The alpha,
And the omega,
The universe under her silent command.

The treetops, blistered by the sun’s hot breath,
The sky branded forever blue,
Bigger than Montana,
The white powdered clouds
That hung within her reach,
All to her liking.

And for a moment, one glorious instant
On a hot afternoon in June,
Steam rising from the brown earth below her feet,
She was five again.

Sun-drenched hair in braids,
Flying, a golden tail behind her.
On the playground,
Her universe,
God’s answer.

Lisa G. Froman

This work is copyrighted and can not be duplicated or reprinted without permission from the author.


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