They gathered round
black feathers slick
drops splash against
stain the skin
wings-spanned mountainside
flutters soft at first,
the furious, furring
sand pulling and spinning
stealing air,
squinted sights so beaks
restrained with golden ropes,
strained but never snapped.
On their backs
through lowered lashes
they are ephemeral
the existence makes hearts
fear to thud, so they
slip a beat to not
compete with perfection.
They are jealous,
you know.
They tower above
the wind moves not a
white robe,
nary a dark hair,
with a gesture,
flippant and unimportant
the lot has dropped to its knees.
Young and old,
knobby and knobbed,
Their homage would be paid.
Their gift would be taken now.
It had all be foretold.
Years ago when the books written in a language
as buried as the long dead speaker.
They kneel.
And they wait.
This poem was influenced by the prompt for #OctPoWriMo. I have planned to write more poems, but I didn’t have any inspiration until I saw today’s prompt “Fantastical.” And this came up. I hope you enjoyed reading it and tell me in the comments when you hear the word fantastical, what comes to mind? If you want to share a poem, I would love that.
Aloha y’all!
Also, FYI, I’m giving away a chance to be in the thank you section of Blood Roses and Honeysuckles, which is getting closer to completion. Check out the link here to find out more info.