Hey there, I took a break from the music series this week to write a poem that’s been nagging me since I woke up.
The Red Eye
From the windows of the wet plane
I see a white bird migrating
away from its spring time meadows
in the sanctity of midnight.
I wonder if it, too, wields
the fire of a red dragon
waiting for its feathers to burn
to a set of bloody scales.
I wonder if its heavy wings
are waiting for the chance to spread
or if its watery brow steams
beneath the hard rains of the storm
and from my small leather backed seat
confined to sit with the people
who looked for their peace in the sky
I wonder why he doesn’t dive to safety.
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