A beautiful bird

 

She looks up from her study,
faraway land of yielding windows,
and readies to unleash
as a peacock;
wisdom to display for the hour,

she knows the “greats” now
and what might be
possible with conviction.

And so will spread to be noticeable
out of the cloistered shadows,
the fledgling growing bolder.

Feathers from fan tip to tip,
she doesn’t fly to obscurity
or hurry into self idolatry
as other writers have and will,
just resides
in a chamber of self absorption;

knows her time will come,
and momentarily, is so fine.