Posts Tagged ‘flying’

Feathery Hope

Tuesday, January 16th, 2018

A fragile and feathery hope grows in my chest
It tickles my ribcage and brushes against my cheeks
Like the kiss of a bird’s wing as it takes flight.
The moment suspended
Between the weight of the world
And the unburdened sky.

Small and tender hearted
This alien thing grows inside of me.
At night I feed it quietly with whispered dreams
And words I am too afraid to say aloud.
I do not yet know whether it will become
Friend or foe to me as it grows.

My mind crushes it slowly with sharp edges
Predicted in the cloudy sphere
Of crystal balls and etched lines in overworked palms.
But still at night, when the lights have disappeared
It is just me and the nascent hope
Evolving to be something more than me.

I refuse to let it die but only acknowledge it
In moments of secrecy stolen between
Sorrow and high-soaring ecstasy.
If I look it in the eye and declare its name
It may just consume me whole
Before I know how to control the chaos it brings.

I know I have been unfair to you
Born of such happiness and light
But forced to be a creature of darkest night;
I made you into this monster
Out of the fear that if I held you too tight
You would disappear faster than a bird taking flight.

Now you are with me forever
Etched into every bone
Like the words of a love letter
That never found a heart to call home.
This ribcage you once inhabited
Transformed into a cage you will never escape.

I feel you waking up again
Testing the limits of your confines
With a wingspan broader than the horizon.
I hear you tapping against my bones
A morse code warning of all we could be
Or a threat that soon you may break free.

My chest creaks under the pressure of your presence
Small yet persistent, this fragile thing
Begins to break through my bones
Like a flower growing through the cracks in the pavement
Yearning for the sun’s light and fresh air.
I can contain you no longer.

Will this creature be beautiful or broken?
Maybe it will be a bit of both.
Heavy with my whispered dreams and secret hopes
Will it be able to take flight?
My fragile and feathery hope takes wing
Leaving me behind to wonder at our small destiny.


Egret Eyes

Sunday, March 3rd, 2013


My mind is full of egret eyes.
Swiveling movement like the weight
At the end of a fishing line,
Pulling the hook serrated and sharp
Into the darkest parts of the sea
That only fish with grey translucent eyes
Can see with something more than sight
That illuminates the darkest parts of this world.

I feel disturbed like the jellied eye
Of a fish left too long in the sun;
Poked by innocent hands seeking fun.
My mind is pierced by shrieks of delight
As children run away, cringing in fright;
A game played by children in a twilight too dark
To be anything else but night.

Plucked from the sea by the dagger
Of a spear fishing egret
Perched atop a craggy rock out at sea,
The open mouthed, lipless screams
Of a fish out of water takes on new meaning.

My mind is full of egret eyes.
Preying with the majestic form of a killer,
Guised in beauty and lithe gossamer gowns
Of a white so pure it can only be called snowy.
But the bones buried beneath the snow
Remain unseen, hidden by layer and layer of white
So pure it can almost conceal the death in your eye
That pivots like a ballerina’s pirouette.

The bird opens wide its wings.
Wings of feathery white willing a skyward escape
Like a shot in the dark and a bullet left in a tree trunk
Because the wood won’t feel the burn, Right?
Just as a wriggling earthworm doesn’t feel the pierce
Of a hook dissecting its body into perfect segments
Like it was meant to be split by the greedy hands of men.
Did the fish see the pain as the worm was plunged
Into the depths of an element it didn’t understand?

These murky waters mean nothing to the eyes of a predator
As the egret dips its streamlined head into the water
Pulling forth its sacrifice of sea life.
The egret pushes itself from the rock in the middle of the sea
To return to its native country of sky clad creatures.
Bringing with it an unwilling victim of circumstance
Caught in the clutches of death, even the victim had to smile;
It was on this day, a fish learned to fly.



Bird Shots 2

Sunday, January 9th, 2011

Slowly but surely through constant effort, I am getting better at getting the bird shot. Here are some new attempts for bird shots.

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Posted in Photos |

Bald Eagle

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

One of the most amazing things about Michigan is the majestic bald eagle. The bald eagle is a frequent sight were I stay in upper Michigan and we love every second of it. These birds are truly amazing and beautiful. I have to say though they seem a little creepy at times because they are always so aware of your presence. Whenever I go near them they always watch me and never take their eyes off until they fly away. I love seeing them and for those of you who don’t get to see them often, here is one of my best shots of him this year for all of you to enjoy!

This is the eagle down on the point. He is always sitting in this tree watching us no matter what time it is. He just took of when I got this picture and you can still see his watching eyes.


Travel Update: Seattle Adventure

Thursday, October 29th, 2009

Sitting in an airport with my super travel buddy, my mom. Drinking Starbucks and perfecting the skill that is creeper photos.

We prefer cars, simple as that.  We are road trippin’ travel buddies not air trippin’. It just isn’t the same. So much is lost when you travel by airplane, all you see is your destination not what is in between. I know it sounds corny and cliche but it really is about the journey not your destination. I have not gone on an airplane for about two and a half years now. So naturally this is my first flight in a while and I have practically no idea what I am doing.

I have already forgotten my book, the Scarlet Letter. No chapstick, what is a girl to do? Well at least I didn’t loose my knives like Nick or go to the wrong airport…. like someone.

Looking forward to Seattle and being on  an airplane totally jacked up on chocolate frappuccino goodness. Mom is pounding back the ice coffee, this is going to be a fun trip.