From the quiver

A poem

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From the quiver

Photo by Mehdi Sepehri

1.
Birds
of arrows
loosed upon
the earth       
before a backdrop
of blood red sunsets,
thieves
who would
take for themselves,
yet they flirt through the air,
float in the lake breeze,
and cover these dunes
with their volley 
of death.

2.
Rain
from the quiver,
wet pillow,
no threat
from the sky.
Rest today.
Rest.

3.
All creatures
eat and eat,
tongues lick
and teeth clack
tearing into life,
love is what they know,
only one feathered wing
remains on the sand,
and the nestlings  
are satiated. 

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Thank you for reading! What strikes you, speaks to you, or stirs in you while in this piece? I look forward to whatever dialogue happens here, and as always, I will be following up with a Reflection essay on how this poem emerged into being.

Brian

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