POETRY
|
High in trees tall as spires,
I stand shivering on a tiny platform. Photo by Weebly.com |
The Book of Hours
by Heather Saunders Estes
Vertical Divider
|
High in trees tall as spires
I stand shivering on a tiny platform, a kingfisher on a branch over a rushing waterfall. In the smell of pine and sweat, I press backward. I must risk the fall—leap and grab with my whole body, my heart. I stand motionless. Pine needles prickle my skin. I can’t be safe without abandoning the tree. Or, I must climb back down. Leafing through the book of illuminated vellum, I find the intricate drawing of this moment. I turn the page of my trembling hesitation-- light catches golden in my flying hair. |
|
We Welcome Comments |