With a Broken Wing (National Poetry Month – Day 8)

Just a bit of dreaming, but every word is truth.

With a Broken Wing

I spied a fairy
with a broken wing
knitted to a sparrow’s back

with spider’s silk.
The sparrow spirited
between two white birch

where grackles gather,
shimmering like oil,
to cackle, warning

pine trolls to feast
on other eggs,
to find their breath

in the woodland’s heart
where the air, cool and wet,
soothes even their pocked skin,

perhaps where the sparrow flies
and fairies go to live or die.

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