sweet song,
nightingale.
rain-drop,
sycamore.
where will
the chick fall?
up,
or down?
that answer waits
in fog.
wait
without fear,
without hope.
you can’t know.
you can’t know
until the fog lifts.
until sun-beams
pour like waterfalls
through gray thick.
until you can look
up to
weightless kite flight,
exaltant,
and watch as
wings wink into stars.
until you can look
down to
the broken bone-mess,
angles,
and wait for
sweetness to sink.
About the Author
Claire Beeli is an emerging writer from Long Beach, California. Her work is published or is forthcoming in Block Party Lit, Polyphony Lit, and The Apprentice Writer, among others. She is her city’s 2023-2024 Youth Poet Laureate. Her writing has been recognized by the Scholastic Foundation, Columbia College Chicago, The New York Times Learning Network, and others.
