A Woman of Thirty by Marjorie Allen Seiffert
page 82 of 85 (96%)
page 82 of 85 (96%)
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A bird is three things: Feathers, flight and song, And feathers are the least of these. At last I hold her in my hands The shining bird whose flight along The perilous rim of trees Has made my days adventurous, my spirit strong. And now her wings Are still--her vivid song But ceaseless twitterings. Her words are feathers, falling Lightly, relentlessly, and without rest, Revealing to my face Her pinched and starveling breast Like poultry, dead and unashamed And naked in the market place. A shattered flash of wings, A broken song, Echo and shine along the rim of trees. The King Sends Three Cats to Guinevere Queen Guinevere, Three sleek and silent cats |
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