dreams of transforming
into an army of eagles
rather than this old
harpy, puzzled
and drugged
from too many good-
byes. Morning plans
evaporate into
mourning. Bedtime
fingerprints sprinkle
these sheets, protection
from nesting beasts
that have clipped
my wings.
 |
| You've Earned Your Wings |
The prompt for Day One (copied from the Writer's Digest):
For today’s prompt, write a morning poem. Maybe you’re a morning person, maybe not. Your poem can be about a morning. Or it can be set during the morning. And those who’ve done this before probably already know that I have no problem with you interpreting this as a “mourning poem.”
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