The nightingale soars faster than dawn can rise; its rosy fingers straining for her talons. Air lifts her wings and tosses her higher.
Fly, nightingale, fly.
With her heart full, she stops to sleep, just before her day begins.
Live, nightingale, live.
Such a creative take on the prompt. Well done!
LikeLike
Thank you! I was a little intimidated with all of the talent around me, but this was very fun.
LikeLike
Flying and living: interchangeable.
LikeLike
So true!
LikeLike
Soar high!
LikeLike
Love the opening image, the rosy fingers straining for her talons.
LikeLike
Thank you. I was a Classics major in college, and I think a bit of Homer was coming through.
LikeLike
I second that on the “rosy fingers…”! Beautiful imagery!
LikeLike
Thank you!!
LikeLike
beautiful!
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
A wonderful tribute to Maya, if I’m reading this right. The imagery of dawn’s red fingers reaching for the nightingale is perfect!
LikeLike
Thank you so much; that means a lot to me. Maya Angelou is such an inspiration for me as a writer.
LikeLike
This is a beauty! A joy to read.
LikeLike
Thank you.
LikeLike