Tanner Brockwell

the taut stretch of cotton twine
by tanner brockwell

the taut stretch of cotton twine
in the backyard on a summer day
tiny folds of meaning
shot skyward disappearing
a whishing noise gone
penciled inside
pictographs and unity
they were suitably gone
until with a plip
the signaled descent
down down down
into waiting hands
and unfolded
read eagerly
examined for minute changes
that would convey a message
like the dance of the stars
or the bent bough of the shore oak
that rustling in the sea breeze
was like a whisper of meaning
that murmured on
and listening forget the world below
but soaring on
in the blue tinged winds above
a small body soaring
carried as much as lead
the small tableau below
forgotten
until with a snap
the wings of fabric
out and in
flutter to sleep

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