There are holes in the night’s fabric,
a memory of carrying grapes from fields
where wood pigeons foraged. In the distance,
a star holds up the sky for her.
She is lined in a sweep of neck, back, and buttock,
the bent gate of her leg. Shoes and dress discarded,
she has walked far to be here
among shooting stars and floating lights,
the open quiet away from the city.
Birds lift around her in one fluttering move,
quick and disciplined. Their feathers plant color:
goldfinch, bullfinch, green woodpecker, blue and white magpie,
their music a slow beat as they encircle her,
the pattern of their flight made visible.
She bends forward and reaches out her arms
into the sweep of air
their wings pull around her
until they fly as far from touch as stars
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 26, Issue 3.
Sherry Rind is the author of four collections of poetry and editor of two books about Airedale terriers. She has received awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, Anhinga Press, Artist Trust, Seattle Arts Commission, and King County Arts Commission. Her poems have appeared recently in Cloudbank, Marathon Literary Review, Crosswinds, Weatherbeaten, Shark Reef Review, and others.
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