Wings

by Claire Scott

A moving, stirring, almost fluttering
feeling in my scapulae
a something that is trying to happen
an almost wanting to rise
without the drag of this heavy body
this earthbound, leg-walking, plod-along body
a vague memory of soaring over fields
drifting through clouds
riding the glory of the wind
on great feathered wings
useless now, withered nubs, vestigial
like our tail bone, wisdom teeth and appendix
yet the longing lasts
we watch condors and eagles sail from cliffs
we watch finches at our feeder, touching
down, nibbling seeds, then flying free
we lower our heads to our morning toast and tea

Claire Scott is an award winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has been accepted by the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, Enizagam and Healing Muse among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.