My youngest egg flew out of the nest
and joined the circus.
She traveled the galaxy
collecting labyrinths of reflections;
and very small suns.
When our breasts next filled with spring song,
her big brother joined a marching murder.
“Your instrument will carry its own weight!” I tweeted,
before his wit could decide to explore irony.
His phone was set to vibrate, but I know he got it.
Still… I’ve smelled the tune of hard metal
creeping towards his window nest.
Process Note: a “murder” is a band of crows. Yes, I just wanted to type that so that I could say it aloud in my head. Few things are as cool as a murder of crows. Well, perhaps an unkindness of ravens comes close… but just barely.
linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (What’s Your Vision)
“Birds Nest”, by David Hess; and “Cosmic Galaxy Egg”, by Andrew Logan (I couldn’t find the name of the piece that resembles a string instrument gone wild… Anyone?). I borrowed the image from ARTSblog.