Desperately, flailing wings braved the torrent.
Such a willful display of bravery.
Even the seated man couldn’t resist.
Covered in gilded warmth a roof gave;
Trees yielded insufficient shelter.
Leaves bent at the mere will of Heaven’s wrath.
Branches tumbled shrieking toward the ground.
Stout pines bent precariously windblown.
Against a faceless sky a bird in the rain
trained to fly through whatever weather came—
As a phoenix swathed in purpled robes of glory
Felt bent on worry at the bleak prospect ahead.
Her young, in bed, without protection or sustenance…
Sated only by chirping bleating cries.
In that determined beak of mother bird’s,
two struggling caterpillars wrestled to survive.
The seated man beheld the sad spectacle.
An ancient, he with force of will arose.
She, oh mighty she flew straight—true as Will Tell’s arrow.
Uplifting the burden buoyant as a muse.
A bolt of lightning struck that marble wing—
Still the flight stayed its course.
Thunder, monstrous, rumbled overhead
and another streak flew across the painted veil.
With a start, a white hand covered a quivering mouth.
Valiantly, the bird stayed aloft for a moment—
One infinitesimal moment suspended in time.
Finally falling through wasted space far below.
Silently and meeting death on grace’s side.
Two tear-stained eyes watched her go.
Reuben Luciano Jr.
