The title of my blog comes from a sonnet I wrote in Speech class towards the end of my second year at ACT. I worked really hard on it and was proud of the way it represented where I was at that time.
It's funny how people change and grow- a little at a time, almost imperceptibly, until one day you look back at old photos or journals and say, "wow, that is so not me anymore." Each moment is like a snowflake falling on a roof. Individually they have little weight, but pile a whole lot of them on and suddenly, all those tiny snowflakes have the power to bring a roof to the ground.
So, I'm posting the sonnet anyway, because I like it, but with this preface saying that I don't think it's really who I am anymore. Maybe I'm more of a plexi-glass bird now. Or paper. Something with a little more weightlessness.
"The Glass Bird"
Once windy wings are fragile, firm and cold
As blinking eye and beating breast give way.
She cannot shake the hardness that takes hold-
A lonely fog turns brilliant blue to gray.
So only mind can fly past frosty pools,
Through icy summers, echoing with song;
Dead lemon groves and cobwebbed garden tools;
The soaring was short, the waiting now so long.
Heavy on earth with eyes turned towards the sky
The glass bird cannot make her body fly.