Birds

Invisible Wings

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The door opens to a flutter of wings
that swoop in the dark before my eyes,
unseen, yet a whisper of wind foretells.

Wings up to nothing but mischief, no doubt,
like a foal that kicks up its heels in an open field
joyous at the very suggestion of life.

Wings that follow the wind to where it leads
then capture moonlit flights to nowhere
and laugh at the twinkling stars above.

Wings that spell voracious hunger to search
for tiny unsuspecting creatures seeking light
and warmth through the cool, summer night.

Wings squeezed into a dime-size sliver of space
to spend the morning hours in sleep while
others begin the motion of daily routine.

Wings that share my house and come out
to play whilst I dream of rainbows and rivers,
invisible wings that disappear for another day.

–Victoria Emmons, copyright 2015

Real Estate

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The owners seemed happy
With their new abode, a comfortable
Second floor room with a spectacular view.

It had been lived in, to be sure,
Yet they didn’t seem to mind its
Lack of newness or the scent of another.

The place became their own, each
Adding his or her special feature to create
A home worthy for their children.

On most days, the morning sun peeked
Sideways into the room they shared,
Huddled as though they were once homeless.

He flew out early for work on Tuesday,
Leaving her behind to tend the family
They both awaited with anticipation.

Before he returned, she knew
It was time. Each newborn arrived, as
Expected, all wet and wondrous.

Eager to tell him, she called out
And called again, to no avail, his
Response never heard nor sung.

To her surprise, a sudden great flood
Began to rise around the walls, encasing
The room where the children slept.

She screamed and begged for mercy
To a God she did not know, and fluttered
Aimlessly trying to protect those she loved.

The masked man saw her frightful motions,
Watched her flying in and out in fear,
Hoping someone would spare her family.

Don’t knock that one down, said the man to
His partner as they pressure washed the walls,
She has babies in that nest, babies who need to fly.

–Victoria Emmons, Copyright 2015