People theorise you are a family
built from the lost and found,
birds left to rattle the bars of their cages
until they bend and they are able to rend
their emerald images against the sky.
You have become a constant,
glimmering as the earth warms
and your treetops flourish into the tropics;
the canopy, a stage for your wandering voices
echoing off hills and rising apartment blocks.
I have heard you morning and night,
waking with the sun and calling each lover,
friend and all of your kin, home,
to settle in the thick leaves which camouflage
the jewels hidden in your feathers;
jewels I have seen when you shapeshift
through the air,
from bird, to magic, to emeralds
pulled from the ground to fly.
You have become a constant
in my melancholy, in my fear –
bright and beautiful;
a reminder that the twists and turns
of effortless flight can be mastered –
I could soar as you do from a bird,
to magic, to an emerald
turning the blue sky green with envy.
Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019