Land

Like a bird
all the time I’m plucking bits
of wire wood and string
a moment with one of my kids
a photograph
a news story
a child jumping three times up
for lift-off
a feeling asking to be named
yes I fly through and over the days
haphazardly gathering materials
with no idea how to assemble them
not even necessarily intending
to make something at all
until as a wise woman once told me
I just know
though I didn’t know how to believe her
and only learned how when I lost the how
and began paying attention
It is like this
something building itself
inside of me
and when it takes on enough form
to begin pushing against my insides
I reach in and root around
spread the pieces out on a table
move them around like mosaic tiles
always
always
surprised when the void
transforms into form
the dull not knowing and almost dumb
but unstoppable collecting of bits
resulting in something
I can hold
name
and offer to you
a nest
a gift
sometimes a small explosion
sometimes a a large one
sometimes a threadbare collection
of notes and scraps
the debris of passing insight
that might just be a place
for you
to land

3 thoughts on “Land

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