A Sunday Morning in January
by Kristen Byrne
They start as simply plump bodies
Frozen onto white powdered tree limbs
As simply as flittering off into blue sky
Into a flutter of unique bodies soaring
Now, a cloud of beauty on wings

The beauty in birds is the clarity
They use to display honesty.

During their majestic flight
Against cold, huffy & puffy wind,
They show how easy it is to ask
For help with a simple act of grace,
How sometimes asking & receiving
Can be a mutual understanding

Even birds grow tired from pushing
Their small bodies through a dense wall
Of icy wind.

So one gives up the glory, and as simply as
A blink of an eye, another takes
On armor to brave it again, and they move
All together with nothing but expectations
Of a warmer place.
Posted by: Kristen Byrne

Poetry (January 23rd, 2005)