Three Tanka

249 / a finch falls against the living room’s back windows— upstairs a father naps with his son in his arms— heavy weight of memory—
250/ the moment a finch unfolds itself against the house, transforming to something else: knotted thread, newsprint origami, a motion—
251/ as falling into a looking epiphany, unexpectedly, the after-shock leaving you stunned, shaken to the core—

I already mentioned the small gold-crested bird which fell into the back windows of the house recently— yet, the action allows room for further conjecture, multiple metaphors. How many different ways can it be expressed: the repetition of Nature unintentionally merging with the Human made constructions? That is, and still maintain a sense of independent poetic expression for each fragmented sense of the scene.


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