Thelxiepeia.
Neck arched, head to the Heavens,
eyes to the sky,
arms outstretched,
ready to fly,
The rattle that had been the death of the last breath climbing
Steady,
Up the sturdy thighs,
Through the curve of the pelvis,
Rolling thunder.
The small of her back,
Up a slightly crooked spine,
So divine,
Tingling in between,
Her shoulder blades,
Out to the tips of her wings,
Round trip into her breastbone,
Gathering the speed of sound
In her throat,
A pure note
The rapture of the strong
Released
Life everlasting
Never to falter
Never to fail
Nightingale
Set sail
Across the moonglow
And everything
They think they know,
Is nothing,
In the wake of the sound
Of the song.
Teri Skultety