My sister found a baby bird— Fallen— Far from the nest. I'm teaching it to fly, She said, swinging it from a rope Tied around its delicate neck. My father caught a catfish From the depths of Hells Canyon. He fought that whiskered bitch For the better part of a Scorching afternoon. The meat he culled from its Fingernail-white bones Was slick and pliant; The muscles of one meant for Cold, dampness and dark— Pulled, unwilling, into the sun. My brother spied a roly-poly— That armadillo of the insect world— Under a rock in front of our Dead grandma's house. He climbed the peaks of our fingers ‘Til we delivered him to a Clump of daylilies sandwiched Between the river and the Windows of the public library, Golden flowers tall as towers in His tiny eyes.
This is a very deftly worded, deftly turned poem, DJ. Nice work!
Beautiful. Simply beautiful, DJ
Fantastic! Loved every well turned word. Beautiful! Also love the illustration. A different style for you and very effective.