Taken to feather soft downy

Fog rolls over the estuary

Flocks of seagulls take wing

Asking nothing of the sun

Moss hangs yonder from aging pine casting shadow on aging ground

Mounds of grasses turning emerald with patient envy  in their wait for winter’s slumber to awaken

As waves beyond rock from out to sea in metronome time

A lone heron rides the cresting air in search of resting tide

The air is shifting from summer’s heat into brisk humidity as days shorten yielding to darker times

She dips her broken wings in ebony ink writing

to cover up her scars

sending pain up to heal in the heavens as angels sang

her story lightening up

ancient constellations

Inspiring the cresting moon to glow

with envy in her brilliance.