yellow bird flew towards me
by Irene
It’s in the small things.
As small as a bird,
the size of my fist,
canary yellow,
that flew towards me,
to a tree, then backward
flight, and I thought,
how great is God, the artist,
speaking into creation,
credulous.
And how, when my throat
isn’t parched,
a poem would steal into
my stole of words,
ermine animal,
soft against my skin
with emollient happiness.
Most of this poem has a happy, light feeling. But the first few lines “As small as a bird,/the size of my fist,/canary yellow,/that flew towards me,” … first size flying toward one … subtly threatening to me. I’m too negative it seems. This is lovely even with my gloomy reading on it.
It’s a journal poem, not sinister at all. It was glorious. Don’t get all gloomy on me gal..I’m just getting out of the pall of being sick and dressed like a princess today.
Lol. I wasn’t really being gloomy, just making fun of my first reading. I really did read something dark in those first lines, then as I read further, I thought “Wait… that doesn’t feel right. Go back and read that again.” Princess day. Nice. I’ll have to do that sometime soon.