Wings aflutter,
like a curious dart
connecting invisible dots
across the sky,
a collage of
frozen frames- a beak,
a wingtip, an eye-
excerpted from whirling Possibility,
a solitary thrush
comes in for a landing
on a crackling braid of steel,
a stranded iron dance hall
populated by troupe after troupe
of Hertzian dervishes,
a fire brigade of
magnetic flowers
opening, blooming, and then
collapsing
into electric echoes.
Twenty stories above the desert floor,
head cocked and waiting,
grooves in the live wire clutched
in its tiny talons,
our thrush watches
the approach of another.
The sun melts onto the horizon
like a scoop of volcanic ice cream
softening at the edges, seeping
along the contours of the landscape
in glowing rivulets.
Together, they listen.
Deep in the wire,
down through its flowers,
past the roots and into its marrow,
are the harmonics of thoughts.
The pulsating wire is a conductor
connector
convergence-
traversing cities and towns,
routed in and out of homes, through rooms,
closets and kitchens, humming
in silent factories, postal offices,
server rooms, lighting panels, and
desktop lamps, its fruits plucked
and carried off in micro devices
that leave full and return hungry,
and always down past the roots
and into its marrow there gather
the whispers that leak from human hearts.
Wavelets of desire, of hope, of doubt,
of wonder, joy, and sorrow-
caught, received, accepted, taken in
and down,
into, within, along the buzzing channel,
ushered by troupe after troupe
of watchful electric dervishes they pass
directionless beneath the roots
of endless flowers
until they shunt down wires
sunken down, deep, into the earth.
Every memory, feeling, question,
impression, every quantum
drop
bead
of awareness-
is grounded.
The first thrush (Hafiz)
leaps into the air.
The second thrush (Rumi)
plunges forward into a diving swoop.
Beings such as these don’t need to sit
on a live wire to get the evening’s news,
but,
it is so delicious to sit with a friend,
to leap into the air and fly,
to be motionless, even as you are borne along
by the never-ending current of Life.
Embracing Forever 
You bring to mind 3 separate things at once. First: Wow! Second: Quote I saw today from Poetry student in NY: Definition of a good poem: “If I am a different person after reading it.” Third: You made me think of One of my favorites: “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” First stanza: “Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird.” – http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15746 Sent via a quantum drop bead.
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Marga, a very belated thank you! Had a busy first half of the week that nose-dived into a cold, and I have been in a state of partial hibernation. Thank you for the link to “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”. I have read it several times, and each time a different piece reverberates around in my chest, as if something is knocking on me from the inside, wanting out. What a beautiful poem… Michael
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The re-emergence of the beautiful M’s in my life, hooray! So grateful that you gave yourself the space for hibernation to heal. I hope you are feeling much better! Your poem gave me a similar or the same reverberation as you describe from the blackbird poem! I am enjoying a linking trail you left in your comments section to an earlier poem and now another avenue links back to Seeing M’s new post and your first steps post! Tis better than a disney world ride! Your words are often transcending the linear logic for me, offering glimpses into a new time, a new perceiving and spiral flow. I’m easing more and more at times into the current in the river which has more momentum than I have experienced with water before. Alone on the end of my lonely little street, I’m connected to everything that ever was and will be – and the looping syncs and connecting threads reflect all of this back to me. All the while the eye of the blackbird and the solitary thrush look on. palms together over my heart space, smiling and bowing!
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Oh the joy of a shared gift of observation found within such a powerful observation using words! Delight delight delighting the heart of this reader.
Here is another group on a wire that also inspired a post summer before last:
http://seeingm.wordpress.com/2012/06/21/going-to-the-birds/
I adore our creativity and those precious souls who take the time to turn and share it so freely with us all. You gift the world in so many ways M! -x.M
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A beautiful post, M. I loved the way the birds on the wire were transformed into a gentle song. It reminds me of the fact that music and harmonies are all around us- from the orbits of electrons and the colors of light, to the attraction of molecules for one another within the body through vibration signatures, to the merging of human thoughts in the grand symphony of silence in which we are immersed.
Here is an earlier poem inspired by listening to the birds near my home at sunset. I think this may have preceded our mutual discovery in this e-plane.
Thanks for your sharing as well.
Michael
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Dear Michael,
I just adore this poem. It felt like soaring and clutching and flying and breathing. Gorgeous!
Thank you so much for inviting me into this thoughtful and extremely, vividly thought-provoking piece.
Blessings and light, always,
Allison
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Hi Allison! I just figured out that I missed this comment. My sincerest apologies, particularly after your following the bread crumbs that I left. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and to respond… I hope the (angels) angles of intersection you described in your own post are continuing to inspire you! You never know who you’ll find hanging out on those wires!
Much Love
Michael
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Hello, hello friend,
It was my pleasure to follow your bread crumbs! You are very kind – never worry about me. I am just happy to get out and about and see your lovely work.
The angels are so good to me. I really must decide what to do with the wild collection of wire photos! Haha, perhaps I should collect them and sell them on Etsy or whatever the creatives do. 🙂
I’ve been posting them to facebook with little inspirational quotes!
Take good care, stay wild.
Much love to you, friend,
Allison
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