Magpie prepares her speech,
though her heart's not in it.
Already too many
voice their willy-nilly.
More than an honest share,
she mutters, adjusting her mirror.
Same old song in a new key
never fooled anybody. Sigh.
What will she say? she wonders,
glancing at her reflection stark,
ruffled feathers, beady eyes,
no time to primp or smooth.
As is, she blurts out loud, titters.
The deal of the century. Take me
as I am. Perhaps words she hopes
to memorize are perfectly useless
flailing under the spotlight's glare.
Maybe she should strut in, naked
as the day she cracked open her egg,
soft and moist and vulnerable, sticky
head swithering on its slender stalk.
She could try her hand at improvising,
like launching herself from the nest,
sudden freedom after all the dithering,
then free fall until her instinct kicks in.
She can already hear them clapping,
the rhythmic flap-flap-flap as new wings,
without shilly-shally, beat a pulse of air.
YOU ARE READING
Magpie Pearls
Poetry~ This poetic journey started when I began questioning why I write poetry. The assumption I'd come across pearls of wisdom to impart is quickly challenged by readers of "Magpie Pearls", leading me to explore truth in a broader sense. Is truth univer...
