vectors of the flock
shifting
as new birds begin
to lead
then rounded by
indecision
wind-chime
a spherical bob
over the same rooftops.
wind in the small of
loftiness,
with no direction but
for prior wingbeat
feverishly come upon,
a truth as collapses
toward one
strong last lines, loved reading the turn before and being directed north for the summer. <3
Hey, thanks mate! This one was very calming to write.
So wonderful this poetry, I love it . thank you for show us this. please pass to my blog: Sin paso al orgulo
Cheers :)
Ah! You got a curie :)
I'm so glad. Well deserved @lazarus-wist!
Thank you, it was certainly a nice surprise to wake up to!
Interesting and moving. Something about “with no direction but for prior windbeat” touched me.
Thanks for stopping by!
You’re welcome. I’ll be back again!
I like the twists and turns of this one. Rings a medieval bell. However, more improvements can be made especially in the transitions from one line to the other, and the transition signals can be made more cogent so that the reader does not take a twist or turn without a warning sign. Nonetheless, I see a revolution in this one, keep it up and we may have another "macbeth" on our hands.
Thanks @aseneca :)
It's impressive.