Enchanted Poetry

Comfortable Tracks

Always I walk,
In my frequented paths,
Meandering, Down the same roads,
I've seen a thousand times before.

But one day I decided,
That a different path was mine,
One wending up,
A formidable cliff.

And so I walked,
Then crawled, Then climbed,
Up the impressive face,
As the path petered out.

And so it was,
That I was hanging,
When I came across,
An injured bird in her nest.

I gingerly took the falcon,
With its broken wing,
Under my arm,
And continued on my climb.

The falcon gazed at me,
And I began to fear those eyes,
And dangling on this precipice,
Such things are dangerous.

"I am no animal husband," I thought,
"But I can heal this battered wing."
But the falcon's gaze stirred images,
Of me chasing off the crows at harvest,
And shooting them from the sky with glee.

And I was saddened,
For I knew that this falcon,
Should find a kinder touch,
Than my bloodied hands.

So I set the falcon safe,
At the top of the cliff,
But I didn't follow.

I climbed instead back down,
To hide in the paths I had worn,
Long comfortable tracks,
Wending through the woods.

Hide from the piercing eyes of the falcon,
Whose gaze cut so deeply.
Using cover of trees,
And lie of contentment.

RBriggs - by Permission

The Warming Spark without a Flame

now playing Mellon Collie and the Infinite Saddness