I should say that I
remember wanfeather best of all.
Our pointy, jointy elbows
and the spiderweb red crawl
Evening would fall,
as we slipped away from wonderland,
she would weave and dance for me;
at last, arrayed on my hand.
Before winter, fall,
before fall, Spring! Bells to ring! Toes
to meld with grass below, a kiss
to trade as ribbons wound and froze.
Before Spring we sprouted,
Or rather, they sprouted:
Our shoulders slipped, and then
Drip, drip, dripped.
Our flight ensemble,
I recall, and how she sped ahead.
But blood stands bright on powered snow,
thus, I followed while she bled.
Silhoutte against the sky
I found, at last, I could not fly.
Eyes had closed and wings withdrew:
I dreamed of winter gone awry.
Awake to find myself
Alone amidst Spring, for winter sailed
With wanfeather, and her breadcrumbs
Those I had followed and failed
Thus, I lost Wanfeather.
