He

Inhabiting the space
between the shade and the light,
he was never truly able
to move freely.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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The morning after

The morning after the full moon
there are seagulls everywhere
and crickets cling to the breeze.

The trees are alive with feathered song,
and somewhere far away where I cannot see
a cuckoo speaks.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Grounded

image

Like a bird with clipped wings
I can no longer fly

and I don’t know
how to navigate this.

by Rebecca L. Atherton
imageTo keep up to date with my progress and receive a copy of my newsletter, send me your email address.

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Learn more about my work and the inspiration that guides it
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