How delicate the lace of fragile exterior

sitting straight, wrapping arms around

her fairy’s graceful beauty,

heart pounding when she reads

the offering brought to a table of minds

no greater than her own desire to write.

I have longed to shout "Bravo!" into the silence

which sits in class with smile resolute

covering her strength of rock and passionate Universe

contained within steel wings

so long pinned to ground by mechanics of controlled defiance.

You are no little fledgling, sweet Becky,

nor a voice to be lost as whisper in stadium cheer

practicing skill exceptional giving Falcon female

acuity of vision as she dives upon her prey

flipping sentence and syntax until

her mind has been fed and with temporary contentment

relaxes only to encourage next hunt begin.

Lift your pen to tell us,

show us your visions,

and if your wings get wet with wisdom's

white blanket that settles over empty harvest fields

let us be the proud arm that calls you home.