Power
I lift my arms to feel
the power of the deluge -
my face turned up
into driving rain.
Well, I feel…wet.
Sort of drippy.
And I can’t really see.
My dress is plastered
unattractively
and my hair -
well the less said
about my hair
the better.
So, the power
isn’t in the deluge
or in the discomfort.
The power is in
my winged mind
as it hastens through
the pouring rain
toward the sun.
This is a Magpie Tale.
"my winged mind" - very nice image. And a neat little package of a poem too, if I may say so.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem and the picture is perfect.
ReplyDeleteLove the personality in this one!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the way you swerved from the predictable to something special! Great piece.
ReplyDeleteLove the way you wrong-footed me twice!
ReplyDeletehalf funny/half insightful...except you forgot to tell us about the duck....:)
ReplyDeleteBlessings
R
I love the voice of the woman, it is just right: ordinary, confused and ill at ease.
ReplyDeleteYour words take my breath away.
ReplyDeleteI love-love your "winged mind"...wonderful write, Bug...
ReplyDeleteThanks everyone :)
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, Bug!
ReplyDeleteNice twist - I love the sound of the ordinary voice coming through here. ha.
ReplyDeleteCan I just stop by and tell you how much I like this? And I appreciate your being willing to share your writing like this - I'm in no way at that stage :).
ReplyDeleteA fine, oh so fine, Magpie!
ReplyDelete