wild grace
note to self
it calls her out of bed—
the wild grace of
flooding words akin to
mockingbirds—occasional
mimic, a borrowed phrase
often her own plaintive song
she looks to morning mist
or coming light, the pad of
fox in the next-door field
soft rustle of finch in firethorn
awaiting a place at the feeder
this wild grace foretells
heart and magic, a frolic
in the field of surprise—
reflecting pond, scrying bowl
inviting herself home
the heart of the matter 
Skye, this is beautiful, Exquisite, unforgettable images, finch in the firethorn (swoon.) And wonderful verbs, pad of the fox in the next-door field, The whole poem is full of a wild grace.
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Thank you! My best supporter!
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