Words are Birds by Julie Teague
A writer reaches for words just as a child grabs at birds
Perfect on the beach. Right there! Within reach. Then, fluttering. Gone. Flown.
I almost had one! And she runs. The chase just begun.
She kicks and cartwheels. Jumps and turns.
Grasping. Greedy. Laughing. Needing. Crazy. Alone.
Sinking
sun settling low -it is when the night comes and the day goes.
She kicks and cartwheels. Jumps and turns.
But when the child quiets. The birds return.
Teague Trek 