The Sound of Ink

  Check the Microphone   His tongue has wings, his eyes a jar of rumors.   Give him an audience and he’ll poison a flock.   Be careful what your ears are fed. It’s hard to lose the weight of assumptions.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 A Cage is a Cage Pretty wire doesn’t make a cage warmer. It doesn’t matter how much glitter is on the wings, the song will always cry freedom.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Shadow in My Voice   Testing shadows to see how loud I can crow.   It’s in dark places you learn the strength of your wings. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 Owning the Glass   Check your reflection. You may not be pleased when someone else holds the mirror. ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Sunday Muse #206

  There’s something about wings that makes me wish I had them.   Defying gravity to feel the sky without having to carry passengers complaining about the view is a bit of magic I’d like to own.   Oh, the pleasure of being a bird to drop an exclamation point on a gossipy neighbor who muddies the Zen of a sunny Tuesday would be a mulberry mission of delight.   If a wish was a feather, I’d wish to be a robin. I could arrive to announce winter has been shown the door and gray landscape must surrender to the reign of wildflowers.   Wait! Perhaps I should wish to be a crow, silence my introvert, join a flock, be inquisitive, problem solve with a wink of mischievous, write my opinions in feather quills and inky throat.   Yes, there’s something, endless somethings about wings that has me yearning to not feel the weight of finding my way through the hypercritical maze of selfish humans.       ©Susie Clevenger 2021         ...

“You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.”  ― Annie Dillard   On this mountain where nothing grows but stones I must seed the wind with wings, and learn to fly when I leap into the unknown. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 #napowritmo2020 Day 22 Inspired by: #skyloverwordlist Real Toads Poets of April Real Toads - April 2020 - Day 22

I remember my mother taking my sisters and I to our neighbors farm to pick strawberries. It was supposed to be a chore, but it never felt that way. Sunshine, laughter, and popping as many strawberries in my mouth as in the pail was magical.  Sun deep in strawberries, lips tinted red, and a bucket begging berries, I turn a chore into summer playtime. Memories gather on white puffy clouds where tomorrow can read them, and today is oblivious of tears on the horizon. It is a butterfly moment of growing wings in giggles, and feeling freedom speak from the dirt between my toes. United with sky and earth I soar. ©Susie Clevenger 2019 The Sunday Muse ~ Berries! Wednesday Muse #13 Oh, and I was super excited to make the gif. Little things. :)