In my bird garden
I asked a dove
If she mourns lost winter afternoons
The sky furiously cooling
Your brow against the glass
Breathing shallow
But, with that reluctant mist
That warns of life in mirrors
Fast evaporating
The bird replied
Though we are
Neither not so cold
Nor defined
By the shape of rain
That we would forego
Our easy days
Still, when the magpie sings
We will find an eave to hide behind
Life is fraught
Bridges far between
The house you build
By tumbling roads
Will fall one day to the bright stars
Of soft, emerging asters
You think a bird a fool, but
How she watches, how she waits
On her flimsy precipice
The magpie is a winter mountain
About the Creator
C S Hughes
C S Hughes grew up on the edges of sea glass cities and dust red towns. He has been published online and on paper. His work tends to the lurid, and sometimes to the ludicrous, but seeks beauty in all its ecstasy and artifice.
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Center Stage with Gina C.
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler5 days ago in Interview
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