grief in old age a feathered thing beats its wings— I hear it fly in, come to rest sometimes it brings tears other times wistfulness or melancholy stays a while, tending— then ruffles, takes flight its arrival or leavetaking often a surprise
Oh, this is embarrassing. I have read so little Dickinson, although I recently purchased used her complete works. But I'm reading other things because I'm involved in work with a mentor at PocketMFA. Oh!!! Hope is a thing with feathers. Right, I've heard that. No, there was no intended connection. (I'm a poorly read poet)
"Grief" is the thing with feathers... a twist on Dickinson?
Oh, this is embarrassing. I have read so little Dickinson, although I recently purchased used her complete works. But I'm reading other things because I'm involved in work with a mentor at PocketMFA. Oh!!! Hope is a thing with feathers. Right, I've heard that. No, there was no intended connection. (I'm a poorly read poet)
Not crashing-in, not.
Nor like an ambush. More like
close friend who drops by.
Yes, like that!
I get that - the flying in and out. Still working out the grief part.