Whatever you have, I'll take it. Struggled with line breaks.
Singing to the Light
Timing. It’s everything.
John Jimerson, actor
When I detach from myself,
I become a redbird, hunkered down
on a branch in sweet silence.
I watch fog hover over the valley,
blessing everything. The white scarf
rises like the mane of a horse as it drifts
eastward, curling and unfurling,
swirling upwards, ever so gently
into gray clouds, seeking
he sleepy-eyed sun.
All of it, under chilly air.
Almost time.
I fluff my bright pajamas,
swallow and set my beak, then
wait for my cue.
In a moment, the luminous light
inches its way up and over the mountain,
leaning forward, kissing every part
of the earth.
I sing my one and only song.
Only that. But that.
Singing to the Light
Timing. It’s everything.
John Jimerson, actor
When I detach from myself,
I become a redbird, hunkered down
on a branch in sweet silence.
I watch fog hover over the valley,
blessing everything. The white scarf
rises like the mane of a horse as it drifts
eastward, curling and unfurling,
swirling upwards, ever so gently
into gray clouds, seeking
he sleepy-eyed sun.
All of it, under chilly air.
Almost time.
I fluff my bright pajamas,
swallow and set my beak, then
wait for my cue.
In a moment, the luminous light
inches its way up and over the mountain,
leaning forward, kissing every part
of the earth.
I sing my one and only song.
Only that. But that.