Wednesday, June 12, 2013
On Broody Hens and Beaches
Wild Woman has lived in, approximately,
38 homes, give or take.
Nomad, gypsy, ever in search of home,
home never stayed put for long.
Each time she moves, she thinks:
this is home, the last move, the last place.
But life has a way of never standing still.
The only thing certain is Change,
she is fond of saying.
Things change. People change. We change.
In the place of her dreams, after ten years,
to her surprise she found herself thinking:
maybe I have completed a cycle here.
And before she knew it, she was gone.
It is four moves later, now.
Wild Woman is feeling that inner gathering
that tells her to align herself with the universe.
The cycle of Helping is coming to an end.
Time to live some Wild Woman years again.
This big old hen has stopped being broody.
She has perched herself on the edge of the nest
and is scanning the horizon.
Off in the distance, behind the mountains,
the silver sea is shining.
She feels her every feather lift in response.
She gives a few speculative squawks; her beady eyes gleam.
At Poets United's Verse First, Kim has set us the topic: Moving. On. Forward. Away.To another house. To another state of being. Not staying stuck. Lifting those knobby inadequate stubby wings and trusting the air to hold one up. I exceeded the 20 line limit. I could eliminate one stanza, but will leave it as is for now....racing off to work. Will be back to read the other links. Am sure there will be some great stuff!