Friday, June 1, 2018

Origami Angel

A local origami angel, 
aged out of foster care,
kept a treble clef  in a wicker cage
perched on a wing and a prayer.

I kept dying and coming back 
all that winter, every time we kissed.
In spring the treble clef infected us with sense,
took back its hour and scorned such pious ornithologists.
_______

a 55 for my BFF.

11 comments:

Cloudia said...

cut like diamonds!!!!!!

willow_switches said...

I'm just sitting and letting my head spin with the melodious sounds in the words, the verses - and letting it steep - with a hot cup of tea - and that, my friend, is a compliment, on this hot, sticky will ever rain relief day - along with your most wonderful 55!

hedgewitch said...

Yeesh! I don't know where to start--first, I was already smiling at the pic when I started that amazing jam-packed first couplet, the third line made me think of pagan sacrifice as well as the living mathmatic of music, and the entire second stanza just reaches inward to that place only poetry can find, where all our secret tears and tiny diamond joys are so carefully hidden. The last two lines make it very clear such states are only transitory in the so-called real world, regardless of how we store them in our own unburnable wicker baskets. Just an awesome 55, Shay, which totally kicks not only the weekend's ass, but possibly the sun's and moon's and other such cosmic things.

Sherry Marr said...

Rhyming kissed and ornithologists is so brilliant it should be illegal. LOL. Knocked it out of the park in 55.

Sioux Roslawski said...

I'm gonna have to agree completely with Sherry Marr. You may not do rhyme on a regular basis but when you do, you do it in an amazing way.

Kerry O'Connor said...

A hauntingly beautiful song... This will stay with me all day.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

Is rhyme infectious? Are we to expect a pandemic? Hoo knows ... this owl's a hoot and smart to boot, teasing the reader with wings of love only to find such songs unfit for tidy cages. (I love the way you gave meter a Bronx cheer too in the last line.) Me, I stick to bass clefs where the whales run.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Your treble clef is infectious indeed - loved its jaunty rhythm.
Anna :o]

grapeling said...

seems that infection is rampant

splendiferous pen, Shay. agree with Sherry ~

Vivian Zems said...

That treble clef was not as innocent as it seemed, I like!

Sioux Roslawski said...

Shay--As always, wow.

The last 7 words were especially inspiring.