Wednesday, 24 July 2019

The Fledgling              

by Lisa Fields          

I flutter aloft
ragged and fast
into the headwind—
seeking my tribe
I alight on false branches
time and again—
join in the chatter
then fall mute
tucked beneath the leaves
to roost alone—
I long
to be enfolded
in that space
of you—
beneath your breath—
passing mid-flight
my vision clears—
the emptiness
was never real—
my tribe
are the solitary ones—
on the edge
of bright gatherings
we flicker
and connect
through common spark
to nestle
peaceful solitude
of velvet night—

* * * * *

Lisa Fields lives in Southwestern New Mexico. Writing poetry expresses her desire to be immersed in a state of balance. Her inspiration comes from the joy of wild places and the challenge to live happily in the domesticated world. She is a contract writer for Quirine Ketterings, Professor of Nutrient Management in Agricultural Systems, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. In her home state of NY, Lisa served the farming community as an Extension educator for 10 years, and then worked for 10 years as a self-employed advisor.

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