The Sound of Ink

Giving up will not be my legacy, I will go to water when I thirst, not expect the river to be my servant. I can bloom in gravel while spoiled roses demand constant care. I’m a dandelion, gypsy sister of the wind.  ©Susie Clevenger 2019 The Sunday Muse #59

Fledgling American Crow on Hand   photo by Robert Langham I was born black winged vocal on the tongue of silence. Harsh tried to teach me to fly without words, but sight isn’t deaf. With every “hush” I grew stronger. When scissors came to cut me from the nest, I’d already learned the language of wings. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 The Sunday Muse #54