The still, bracken water
holds the black, of the blackbird's eyes-
in the pooling depths of darkness,
where there is no hint of sun;
in the water, it's always night.
The soul so wild, within me
feels pain, in a blackbird's cry;
anguish when away, they fly-
to be always thought the dark one,
shrouded by so much light.
Fly bird, beneath the heavens
cold shadows, that drift above you,
and warm earth, beneath your flight,
Damp is the bosom that birthed you,
and better than coming dawn,
are the dark pinions of your eyes.
(Smoky Hoss inspired this one, for sure,
thanks Smoky, your blackbird poem is amazing)
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blackbird-s-eyes/
