Sky One

In an early sky, the molecules of my wings
were reshaping themselves—by sheer will, it seemed—

into arms. And I was sad, at first, to be dispossessed
of the old updraft, the wheel-and-hold.
                                          But alright, goodbye.

I'd begun to see that the arms were spiraling, moving
ever more wildly, and Oh, I thought,
            they're full of stars. Then I saw—no,
                        the arms were made of stars.

Copyright © 2007 Nance Van Winckel All rights reserved
from Meridian
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission