Soar

I dreamt of the voice shuttered

tight against the storm. Words

held behind the clouded window, urgent

We are here!

Blue feathers lined in black resting

in sunlit trees. Impossibly large

No, they cannot be mine

I doubted the possible

stroking the membrane of the quill

so many gathered stories filling

the space beneath, calling

through the echo of time

wondering why the throat

is like a storm cloud waiting to break

the sun. Wondering why

space needs to be confined while the bird

of truth lies in wait

for permission to soar

Once again, I had a feeling that Sue’s photo would echo my dreams. For Sue’s #writephoto writing prompt,#Soar.