Posted by: shorelineclusterpoets/NE Fowl | February 2, 2012

Suggested Theme Thursday: beautiful wings

A few weekends ago, Susie and I went to Magic Wings,

a butterfly conservatory in Massachusetts. I didn’t really know what to expect, but the greenhouse was beautiful… filled with plants, trees and water features. And of course, thousands of butterflies.  Truly a sight to see. (not to mention the adorable little Chinese painted button quail).

Today’s theme is beautiful wings. It doesn’t have to literally be about these pictures, or butterflies, but it could be another creatures’ wings, real, imagined or philosophical.

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Responses

  1. Taking Wing

    Take your wings
    and with them walk an hour,
    and carry them on your shoulders like a burden.
    Your wings were once a dream
    and now you can feel their weight when they won’t carry yours.

    Then – take a stone
    and shoot it through the sky,
    because stars only fall and burn and whither and are lost,
    but a stone is forever,
    and a stone can be as heavy as your grief and your sorrow.

    Take heart (but not mine),
    and forgive the stone.
    It did not break your wings.

    Try to carry the wind
    if you can catch it on your breast,
    or let the wind carry you – breathless
    into the bleak sky – with your stoned desires and wingless heart.

    And maybe you can finally bring them together –
    wind and stone and wings and heart –
    and send them on a journey, through cloud and sky and universe
    and watch them fly away without you

    or fall

    (Anonymous)

    Reply to Taking Wing

    My wings, my wings are weary
    They that seemed to soar carried stones and dreams and will-o-wisps
    But carried naught for I have always walked
    Thinking I had wings
    Mistaking lightness of being for the ability to fly

    My legs, my legs are sore
    They carry stones and dreams and will-o-wisps
    And shoot nothing through the sky
    The sky is for the mind and not the body
    The wind carrying only the breathless to the stars

    My breast, my breast is full
    It carries breath and dreams and wind
    And cannot hold stones
    But instead speaks their tongue and tells them of the wind
    So that a stone might take heart, too

    The stone, the heart and the wings are one
    And always have been
    Though one dreams, one walks, another flies
    They journey together
    And cannot fall as dreams, like hearts, walk lightly in the night

    KR Ainsworth 2010


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