Thursday, May 14, 2015

Feathered Dreams



I am thinking of owls this early morning,
their eyes heavy-lidded, as they tuck their little heads 
under their wings and go to sleep for the day.
They have kept watch all night, under the moon,
and must rest before their next vigil.

What do they dream of?
Mice, perhaps, skittering across the forest floor,
their feet  jerking in sleep as they dream of pouncing.

Or perhaps they dream of flight,
that swooshing sensation 
of casting their bodies with faith, into the air, 
the beat beat beat of their feathered pinions,
and the energy it takes
to keep themselves aloft.

Every time they take to the air,
it requires conviction, trust,
and a boundless belief
in their wings.

Yes, I think they dream of flight.

5 comments:

  1. Sherry this is such a marvelous poem! :D Specially adored the third stanza.. where the lines read:

    Or perhaps they dream of flight,
    that swooshing sensation
    of casting their bodies with faith, into the air,

    Beautifully penned..!
    Lots of love
    Sanaa

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  2. I think you are right, Sherry. I am sure that the owls DO dream of flight! I can't imagine what it would be like for one of them to take a 'leap of faith' for the very first time.

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  3. I think you are right, Sherry. Don't we all long for the kind of freedom that allows to fly in our own special way?

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  4. We too need conviction, trust and boundless belief in our wings. I've always liked owls. Now, because of your poem, I like them more.

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  5. it's been a while since i've dreamed of flying... maybe tonight... ~

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