Wings in My Sleep

For me tilted wings framed by my window forebears emerging spring
Some find nodding daffodils the deliverer of winter’s demise
Others the green crocus blades as prognosticators of season change

These sleeping residents awaked from their cold beds with Vernal’s kiss,
Flowering from successes of springs past
Thrusting from energy of colorful ancestors they are icons of stability

But adventure rides the wind with V notched wing teasing my mind,
Migrant’s winter absence from frozen north begets summer warmth in places south
Upon their wings ride my dreams of distant winterless lands,
At my window their presence ushers in emerging spring absent of stories I yearn to know
Sleep is not the language of wings nor the wind that carries them

As daffodil’s sleep, vultures explore
One slumbers only to see the same neighbor just three months the year
The other travels to see the world in seasonal peregrination
Ha, yes in my sleep I ride their wings to places unseen as they arrive this spring once

This poem was written by Don Paul on April 4th, 2005. Don Paul was the principal biologist for the reintroduction of Peregrine Falcon to the northern part of Utah.

Scroll to Top