Mercy Tolentino Steenwyk

Pretty Black Bird Passing By
05.25.20 Pasadena

with not a blink
      a murmur or
        a twitch,
from behind my eyes,
this silver light sailed,
the rim of my glasses
falling
the breeze floating,
time spun
round and round
in the bits and pieces
in my mind.

a pretty black bird passing by.

this gentle silver and blue
stood calmly,
giddily at times,
echoing the light,
the sounds carrying time.

 with not a blink
           a murmur or
           a twitch,
the blades of grass,
trees, branches, their leaves
so young, new sprouts, old ones
falling.
light racing through me,
the muted past staring.

in the gentle silver and blue,
the pretty black bird passing by
swallowed a seed,
the hummingbird fluttered
ferociously in between
the giving trees, the forgiving blooms. 

with not a blink
            a murmur or
            a twitch,
from behind my eyes
this silver and blue turned gold,
crimson and deep, deep red.
rays flowing upwards.

the pretty black bird floated by
and in the gentle green of grass
once more,
swallowed the seed.
once more,
soared.
gaze held by the light
of the gentle blue and gold
of crimson and deep, deep red.

with not a blink
            a murmur or
            a twitch,
I sailed with my prayer.
a pretty black bird passing by.