Birth of flight!
A transformation of self.
I grow feathers angelic
From my back flesh
Feather, by feather, by feather, by feather.
There is no pain from this sprouting
Only the feeling of pressure.
Now, a newly winged being ready for flight
My arms stretching from wing to silver wing.
The blurry flap of feathers rolls up the air and
Feathery finger tips split like cut felt.
Curled on the edge of a precipice,
Feet muscles pop out pink bulges as
I launch upward and feathers
Whisper sharply like reeds in a breeze;
The launch is streamline.
Flight, sublime feeling of Swoop,
Arched back into frosty winds,
Wind through pink fingers and silver feathers,
Dark, blotted shadow- movement
Coating cliff rocks below.
My feet dangle over dark forests and green fields.
No longer will earth’s embrace
Pinch my flesh.