Monday, June 8, 2015

Molt



In spring you shed
mad winter growth;
wonder plumage
enviable by any bird.

Rite of passage
ushers in your time
of seasonal regeneration,
hints of immortality.

Dust hangs in the air.
Mound of shavings on the floor.
A glance in the mirror leaves
you barely recognizable.

You emerge shorn,
pale and summer-ready,
protected by nothing but expectancy
and your skin.


tk/June 2015



Elegant read by R.A.D. Stainforth...





12 comments:

  1. A really great piece I must say!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Seasonal regeneration - yes, we're all experiencing it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. enviable by any bird !!! love that... and the sweetness of that piece !

    ReplyDelete
  4. I adore that photo. Wonderful writing.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I really like the shedding of plumage.. I think I will soon do the same at some beach :-)

    ReplyDelete
  6. I feel this way every year too it never changes even in sunny CA. Maybe a little too naked Tess? Lol! Enjoy your week, big hug!

    ReplyDelete
  7. ah yes....the shedding of over growth!

    ReplyDelete
  8. He walked in via The Flaming Door

    ReplyDelete
  9. Ah yes, every single fallen shaving, definitely worthy of possessing.

    ReplyDelete

Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)