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ISSN 
1942-2067

Copyright © 2008 Pirene's Fountain.

All Rights Reserved.

Last updated:
May 2008

Diane Adair


 

Diane was eleven when she wrote her first poem for a class assignment. The teacher handed the poem back telling her she would never be a poet. Diane still has that poem and recently gave it to one of her granddaughters on her eleventh birthday, saying, “Go. Write.“ Diane’s greatest joy and deepest frustration is in creating pieces that will touch sensitive places in those who read her words. She’s aware there are only so many words, but endless possibilities for stringing them together. She’s won multiple writing contests in various genres the past several years. Her words have been published in THE SUN magazine. Diane has published “Poems for People I Love.”

 

Wings

Across the broad expanse of plains                                                                        nesting marks of Meadowlarks spread over
grass in tracks of bison herds who used to
graze on virgin fields of grain

Near rivers spawned by mountain snow
splashing ducks and geese in fine release of
pairs lift up and fly away from Winter’s song until                                         lured back by Spring

Beneath the boughs of ancient trees and vines
wings of lace emerge to grace the stars with                                                        frenzied dance of love ‘till light of moon gives way
to sun-burned day

Above the wide divide of canyon depths                                                              feathered sight of eagle’s flight rides into
wild wayward wind while echoes skate on                                                               granite sea of ice

In Northern climes aurora borealis
sings with iridescent wings of color piercing
rainbow’s spectrum flooding mind
with possibility

Beyond the edge of ordered time lie wings
of mystery awaiting you awaiting me if only
we were not afraid to put them on
and fly away

May : 2007