When women were birds

we sang through the heart
of the universe, soared aloft
saw all there was to see of earth.

We understood the swift, cold light
of morning, the raspy, wet winds of spring.

When women were birds
we kept our secrets all to ourselves

tumbled into dark evenings
roosted in oaks and sycamores
rose up in waves of wings.

When women were birds
we could not be held down.

We waited for no one, spoke
with clear voices, cried out with thunder
gleaned seed from shadows.

When women were birds, we loved
ourselves, caressed the strong currents,

darted brave into the leaves
of tomorrow, found the heavens
a home for ourselves.

***

Ursula Shepherd lives in Ashland, Oregon. She write poetry to remain sane in a world gone mad. She is author of a book, Nature Notes: A Notebook Companion for the Season and several essays and scientific articles. She only recently returned to writing poetry. Her work has appeared in, among others, Unbroken, Minnow, Ekphrastic Review, The Orchards and previously, in Grim and Gilded.