Showing posts with label Baby We Were Born to Run. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baby We Were Born to Run. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 16, 2024

Desert Wings


Before the purpling of the sky,

a Great-tailed Grackle

bemoaned the heat

with open mouth.


He was gone

before the dust storm blew

across the lawn

turning it, and us, ashen.


There were no bells,

no ceremony.

Only this: dead




like motors running

from somewhere in the deep


stirring memories

of my bare feet

in the sand,


my hands lifting

shells from the shore

for a backward listen.


How different it all was back then.


But it wasn’t, was it?

Life has always been

roiling about us

in the mix of the fair

and the foul.


Did we just let

all that darkness take over,

choking everything

in toxic grip?


Did we just ignore it,

hoping the tide would go

just as it came?


Even so,

what I know now

I will not remain

perched to repeat,



small and brown,

mouth open in the heat,

shaking sand

from my unfolding wings.



© 2024 Jennifer Wagner


Shay’s Word Garden Word List


Since birds have no sweat glands, we often see Great-tailed Grackles walking about with their mouths open to cool down in the AZ summer heat.


Sunday, November 16, 2014


Image via Mag 246

It’s subtle
how it calls,
how the road
yields to the curve
of your palm,

upon your tongue,
your palate quivering
with diesel and dust
as if cigar smoke, sex, Bordeaux.

By day,
the sun toasty,
by night,
the stars crisp,
like hints of a lover’s kiss
fresh upon your skin,

soul entwined
with the highway wind,
a liberative mix,
as the slivered moon
tends to the
cumulonimbus clouds
in your mind.

And it’s subtle
how you answer,
how you
yield to the curve
of its palm.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Going for a mind clearing drive with Magpie Tales & the Sunday Whirl.