Do you, too, see wings in trees?

Cardinal feathers ruffle far-off branches,


swaying in an outlined oak.

Surrounding twigs, a stencil etch from this perspective—

embers poke holes into a canopy. 


Do you, too, watch shadows across your porch? 

Lamp light dim,

morning glow draws in charcoal lines.

A backyard swing

sketched from its model’s hanging—

the seat catches wind, 

a portrait swells and retreats.


Do you, too, make shapes with your fingers?

Lips pucker between thumb and palm, 

a chapel erects from intertwined hands.

Wrists hook, fingers stretch, 

and a butterfly joins our play. 



a swallow tail docks on my window—

its toes kiss the glass, 

its tiger print wings span back, 

a rest between flight. 

It scans my sculpture hands,

my skin pale under kitchen lights,

and it launches—here, then gone.