A Half Wing Short Of Flight

I hash tag drudgery

with planned procrastination,

erase some thoughts,

put a lock on my tongue.

A half wing short of flight

I camp out in my dandelion nest

waiting for the sky to deliver a sign.

Three shadows closer to frantic

I spoon feed my spirit artificial calm

and pray patience isn’t a written exam.

Just before despondent reaches wit’s end

magic pockets its glitter to jewel

my silver lining with heartbeats of onyx.

I always thought angels wore white,

but the ones dropping at my feet looked

more like mourners in their tar feather best.

With claw and caw they plucked self pity

from my breast while admonishing,  

“Sitting won’t bring the wind’s urge to soar.”

Like a cloud stealing doom they rise to pencil the sun

with a watchman’s oath, “We’ll be your eyes

when midnight curtains your view.”

Real Toads ~ Transforming With Nature's Wonders