The Magpie

He came to me with passive beginnings. I held out my open palms.

At first, he was wary, as all luminescent and wild creatures are. He cocked his head to sense the air around me.

I asked him to read of me, my words and my marrow.

He hesitated and I moved away, gently. And then I fell into his torrent of feathered splendor and deepening gasoline sheen.

When he came to learn that my love is irreducible, he became awed and also shamed.

This looked beautiful glinting off his lean tail feathers.

Shame illuminates with a green sheen, Awe, with indigo bright.

I sang for him in my lilting songbird chortle which imprints upon magpies, as their sound language is not sung in the sun, but spoken through manyIMG_7548 stars. A different dialect entirely.

And yet still, we both understood our each respective music making patterning.

The words unmatched against a cloud quilted Azure sky.

I lost him to the sky. To never say goodbye was the hardest thing.

He clipped my wing.

About Shellschön

My parents gave me a babyhood nickname. It takes the last part of my given name, Michelle (Shell) and the German word for "beautiful" (schön). The ö is difficult to work with if you type slower than you think, like I do, so the name kind of evolved to shellshin; like pressing words--word press.
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