Red Bird

supremely perched, observing the earth    
with fiery feathers preened to a tee in an abstract normality    
     
the spaciousness of carved wordings entice curious fingertips to press against      
courtly verses as they passed through ancient breaths    
this adornment is heaved high upon a rift    
     
today, winter's canopy chokes the sun from the inner sanctum    
forcing out the horizon's pungent displays of serenading inspirations    
     
translucent fingers easily reach in and squeeze tightened emotions again    
savoring not, scented air until the Earth completes its circling mission    
not even the gathering of animals can prepare them for this pandemic silencing    
     
still the frigid peaks praise the storm bated plumes of rage    
out numbered are we by our own fate. nor a one, escape    
     
vessels swell tight with vintage wines,      
flaring nostrils wild on crawling time    
     
the Moon did lend its hand, bringing forth its pull on love's ebb and flow,    
as did, erosion step forth to rip loose the rose from the earth    
     
consider not the gift of present, a curse    
distant is the eye that can't see inside, even as the sky    
reaches down to touch the ocean's spine, simply for the sake of time.