Still
Tender, gentle, puffball of down
The fledgling black-capped chickadee
Waiting patiently for the adult that
Never arrives
Softly drew his last breath
Beneath the pink roses
Kinetic
Ganymede, lover of gods,
Pours water of life upon the
Dry earth bringing forth the
Roses under which the
Sleeping baby bird lies
Dew drops touch its wings
Still
She lies week after week
Becalmed in the doldrums
Parched throats in unrelenting
Sun, ancient mariner’s plight
No albatross shot
Sailors asleep in a floating tomb
Kinetic
Born under the water sign
He grasps the helm and
Tightens the sheets with
Sails trimmed to a close reach
Ruach tugs on the cutter’s twin jibs
Further up, further in
Resurrection
Tiny bird springs to life
As sails billow
Dull eyes alight
Shrunken hearts revive
She heels to leeward
Destined for the stars
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