Pin It

Untitled 

I hear the sound of wings
beating against thick, lofty air.
A million shards of glass embedded in a deep,
night sky.
This is the stillness before the shutter slams shut,
then a moment of black.

I think in strands of moments:
a string of beaded
dew upon a rounded web,
fragile against an unexpected wind.
It scatters orbs that disappear,
and I am in such awe
that I forget to breathe.

Tags: ,

  • Pin It
  • I hear the sound of wings beating against...

Speaking of Poetry

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

About The Author

Julia Vradenburg

Latest in Poetry

© 2014 The North Coast Journal Weekly

Website powered by Foundation

humboldt