Poecili Gambelli

Faintly dusted, such tiny wings,
A shiver up the spine,
Branch to branch, a diminutive claw
Balancing so delicate
A life.
Valley-wards the morning beckons,
Down from your elated peak,
Searching
For a mirrored image, some
Similarity, familiarity in the world
Below.
A flit here, a dash there,
From the sky you fall.
Your's until the wind blows
And the eastward mountains
Call.