a borrowed angel

Passerrines explode from a feather cannon–
an ominous burst more foreboding than a tempest
Endless bits of triangular blue make the sky an abstract puzzle–
coming together or falling apart
Their chattering blankets suffocate my precious morning peace
How do these frenetic creatures hear each other
Does it matter to their tiny process
The starlings remind of a biblical pestilence read about as a child–
invasive species, legged, winged and without conscience
Millions of flapping wings force the trees to sway
How black these birds with their beady little eyes–stolen magician’s opals seeding the sky
Ear-shattering thieves of brightness
To diffuse my peril, I unhook the waking senses
In the empty spaces of my blank, Helen arrives
A borrowed angel
eye-less
ear-less
Quiet now
See her
Hear her
Through dense feathered blinders, she manifests a brilliant blue sky
Flocks enter her sealed cave–
she hears one birdsong above the rest
The plague of starlings brushes low to the ground
Cerulean returns above
The screeching pestilence covers my property
her Speaking hands guide me
her Silent words teach me
to hear a single clear note above the din
to see an emerald ocean above the sea of feathered black
My borrowed angel is a spirit of imagination–
an artist of the senses
I have been both deaf and blind
She has not

Ra

dedicated to Helen Keller

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