WOMEN WRITING BIRDS
I'd not know anything of it, of course : feathers on a
wing, like a boudoir lace on a negligee, or a chignon.
The way a woman carries things, herself, her aura,
her being. Birdlike, perhaps, but with strength.
But, this is writing, not carrying. I'd like to think
of what is captured in the plight : the manner in
which only a sensitive hand could wallow in
poise. Womanly poise. As Emily Dickinson put
it, 'A bird came down the walk, and he unrolled
his feathers and rode him softer home....'
It continues, but I'll stop there. Just insinuating
what I've meant to say. Her poem entitled
just that - 'A Bird Came Down the Walk'
gets it all as well as anything else I could say.
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