A pair of newborn wings
Fluttered like hands hooked at the thumbs.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
Making broom tracks in the snow
And flickering shadows in the crisp moonlight.
I opened the window, reached out
and gave them a boost.
My hands in their feathers.
Up. Down. Rise. Descend.
Off you go.
|Left Wing In progress with Tree Self emerging_Week 2|
|Winged Dervish-Right Wing in progress with Tree Self emerging|