Falconers

In libraries there are so many words
like so many feathers saved
from so many flights remembered, 

and so many still ready to fly; so many
drowsing wings barely fluttering
with impatience,

longing to be released
by librarians who wait like falconers
for you to approach

so they may unhood and loose those words
to seek you out, swoop upon you 
and settle, sink in and take hold. 

Soon enough
you find yourself raised
from your own sleep,

awakening
to the rustling of feathers.
You may drift back to sleep

to dream of flying,
dream of being
carried to freedom by free words,

and in your sleep
as you rise into some grand sky
you may catch a glimpse of a falconer

turning from you toward
the next earthbound traveler, ready
to help them soar just as you are soaring;

if you do, turn back. Circle
for a moment. Nod your head to the one
who helped bring you here; pay tribute 

to the tenders of saved feathers, 
liberators of wings given once again
a chance to fly.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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