Waves surround being–
always changing
both mover and moved.
The hand opens,
permeable,
to let light pass
through.
Birds squabble–
brown, ordinary,
almost invisible
in the freckled light.
And a heart
takes something—
call it hope, perhaps–
and dances a little
in the dark
A quadrille for dVerse, also inspired by a prompt from Miz Quickly, above. I am always intrigued by her prompts, even if I don’t often have time to do them. In this case it fit in well with my thoughts about Mish’s word, “freckle”.
K. 
I know those speckled birds, they’re sparrows. I love your heart grasping hope and dancing with it. You take the grue out of the x-ray.
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Light on sparrows is a beautiful thing. They always make me feel better.
Thanks Jane.
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We only live a couple of miles outside the town, but you won’t see a single sparrow beyond the last house. They prefer living in gardens to living in fields. That must be an indictment of modern agriculture.
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I wonder if that’s true everywhere.
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I know there were several different kinds of sparrow in Europe and only the house sparrow is surviving in any numbers. Even they are declining. The others didn’t adapt to living in towns. And then there are cats…
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Cats do kill birds. Around here they prefer pigeons.
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Wow! Big cats! They prefer the little critters here, and small rodents, though some of them do go for rabbits too.
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I think the pigeons are just the least aware, and easiest to catch. They like mice too.
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I saw a really freaky video of cat fish in the Tarn river catching pigeons that had gone down to the water to bathe and drink. Those fish are monsters! Husband lived in Albi btw. I don’t remember the catfish though.
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Wow! They do call catfish the pigeons of the sea–they’ll eat anything.
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Including pigeons…
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It is nice how hope can help us dance in the dark.
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Hope is always a good thing. Thanks Frank.
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Love that last stanza, especially.
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Thanks…my favorite too.
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beautiful ending!
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Thanks Jodi.
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Faith is sure of itself, hope is a lesser presence but has more resilience, I feel a catch and a twinge at the pairing… hope… perhaps.
Always at the bottom of the box, hope is a gentle choreographer.
Hope is my middle name, a connected Twix truth and legacy. Oh my… but I am loving this poem.
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Thanks so much Lona. No matter how dark the world seems, the smallest thing can nourish hope. It may save us yet.
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Yes!
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I like your waves, K. They never fail to move. Your last stanza is a universe.
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Thanks Jade. The world is always in motion.
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I think hands are such an interesting subject to explore – especially our own! Lovely poem and art, Kerfe!
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Thanks Jill. Our hands are always a willing subject!
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I love that opening. The ideas of light and movement, and transience, really chime.
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The word freckle immediately made me think of light. We don’t see the actual waves, but we experience them.
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This is beautiful and so well made…in particular the last verse!
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Thanks! There seems to be a consensus on the need for hope…
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Light, waves, hope, and hearts? How could I not love this. 🙂 I particularly like the last stanza.
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Thanks Merril. Hope is in short supply these days…we need to look for it and hold it close.
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Nature is like a display of hope, as long as we take the time to look. I love watching little birds in the sunlight.
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Thanks Mish. It always is. I love the sparrows, I never get tired of them.
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