…hold the stage

…hold the stage

You hold the center
of an endless menagerie of
wild flowers.

Your ears catch the wind like
billowing sails.

Your nose cradles the scent
of feathering grasses
brushing against the blanket of
your coarse fur.

The sun, like a spot light,
casts itself on
your delicate presence.

For a long moment,
you hold the stage
until your long lanky legs filled,
as if by the sweet hymns of insects,
praising the dawn
leap effortlessly~~~ a rhythmic dance.

I do not see your wings.
Yet, you fly with an
unwitting secret
needing no answers.