blog description

Old women talk about old things: history, myth, magic and their
checkered pasts, about what changes and what does not.

Friday, September 30, 2011

The Summons

Snaky necks black
Among cornshocks
Be-In of clans,
Feathered coverlet,
Mulched field
High blue above,
Walking, chatting, resting.

Some fly in,
Wings bowed
Dump speed for landing.
Some fly out,
On their way to
Lost Pangea.

As it is,
So it was.
Faithful through eons,
Through cataclysms of
And our slaughter,
Hearing, beyond
Man's stunted senses,
Magnetic Summons--

Fly Now,
Oh Brave Children
Of Archeopterix.

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