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.
and your skin.
tk/June 2015
Elegant read by R.A.D. Stainforth...
A really great piece I must say!
ReplyDeleteVery nicely written
ReplyDeleteSeasonal regeneration - yes, we're all experiencing it.
ReplyDeleteenviable by any bird !!! love that... and the sweetness of that piece !
ReplyDeleteI adore that photo. Wonderful writing.
ReplyDeleteI really like the shedding of plumage.. I think I will soon do the same at some beach :-)
ReplyDeleteI 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!
ReplyDeleteah yes....the shedding of over growth!
ReplyDeletelovely write.
ReplyDeleteHe walked in via The Flaming Door
ReplyDeleteAh yes, every single fallen shaving, definitely worthy of possessing.
ReplyDelete