#Poetry Wed: “Waxwings” by Lisa Russ Spaar

“Less what things need.

More a sobbing, helpless chime

of flickering, passerine want, in gyre,

tornadic, ribboning the resinous cedar,

mythic in winter’s gamboge sun,

gilt, yet also monastic, in your way.

Your hand the temple my body,

a flock, moves on…”

-Read the entire poem at The Journal.