I wake from a dream,
reach towards day as it hatches,
its tiny beak presses against
the delicate shell of sky.
Today I might learn to fly.
~ Christine Valters Paintner, “Wings” in Dreaming of Stones: Poems
Notes:
Notes:
I discovered that in the early part of the morning a mist hovered in the hollows of the estate and the grass was wet with dew. There was a smell in the air of bonfires, the land already preparing for autumn…The morning welcomed me and I felt lighter, more confident, walking with my head up, ready for anything.
– Claire Fuller, Bitter Orange (Tin House Books, October 9, 2018)
Notes:
And only the enlightened can recall their former lives;
for the rest of us, the memories of past existences
are but glints of light, twinges of longing, passing shadows,
disturbingly familiar, that are gone before they can be grasped,
like the passage of that silver bird on Dhaulagiri.
~ Peter Matthiessen, The Snow Leopard
Notes:
Some moments become enchanting with the addition of words,
others are completely killed if you try to describe them.
It’s the difference between a tiny bird flittering above your open palm
and a closed fist crushing wings.
Notes:
It isn’t long after we arrive
that everyone starts pointing
and telling us where we need
to be and what we need to do
to get there. There’s no time
to really ask why. Soon, things
happen and we’re thrown off
course and now there’s all this
effort to win their approval. If
lucky, love will distract us more
than suffering. If blessed, we’re
broken of everyone’s plans and
regrets and thrown like a hooded
bird into a sea of light.
If trusting
the fall, we find our wings.
~ Mark Nepo, “Where We Need to Be” in The Way Under the Way: The Place of True Meeting
Notes: Photo: (via Your Eyes Blaze Out). Poem: Thank you Make Believe Boutique
Be like the bird, who
Halting in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath him,
Yet sings
Knowing he hath wings.
— Victor Hugo, “The Bird,” Twilight Songs (Les Chants du crépuscule), published in 1835.
Notes:
The thing is to relax and not fret about worldly things
but just let the wings open and be oneself quietly for a bit.
This never fails to renew strength.
~ Iris Murdoch, from a letter to Hal Lidderdale written c. July 1950 in Living on Paper: Letters from Iris Murdoch, 1934–1995
Notes:
One by one they opened the bird cages, and the sky filled with parakeets, canaries, lovebirds, and finches.
~ Isabel Allende, The House of Spirits: A Novel
Notes: Photo: Jim Bendon (Parakeets). Quote: Hidden Sanctuary
Such longing.
How large
the muscles in our shoulders must be
to lift our wings even a single time.
~ David Romtvedt, closing lines to “Dilemmas of the Angels: Flight,” Dilemmas of the Angels: Poems
Notes:
