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
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
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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